Becoming a Weasley
by sk987
Summary: Marriage Resolution passed, but Hermione always felt like a Weasley anyway. M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_We are writing to inform you of a new, temporary resolution the Ministry of Magic has passed regarding the serious de-population of Wizarding communities in Great Britain and the continent. As you are aware, the Great War has had a number of negative effects, including the death of thousands of outstanding members of your local community. As a result, a panel of Ministry officials, including the Head of Muggle Relations, the Minister's personal council, and the Council on Secrecy Statutes, have implemented in order to re-populate our world._

_The Ministry of Magic of Great Britain is hereby acknowledging a Marriage Resolution, to take effect one month from today. The law requires that eligible witches and wizards ages 19 through 30 enter into a marriage within the next six months. These marriages are intended to produce a new generation of magical children; the unions may be dissolved without consequence five years after their consummation. Individuals who marry before their assigned time period are exempt from this resolution. Additionally, individuals who produce a magical child within two years of the passage of this resolution are absolved of the legal obligation to continue the union for the requisite five years. Penalties will not be issued for the physical inability to produce children, and subsidies will be given to aid with the medical costs of pregnancy._

_Due to the incendiary nature of this resolution, the Ministry has decided to implement their re-population plan in several phases, beginning with witches and wizards ages 25 – 30. Witches and wizards falling into this age group must marry within three months of the date on this notice. Witches and wizards ages 19 – 24 must marry within six months of the date on this notice. Subsidies will be given for childcare, and monetary assistance for necessities may be granted on a case-by-case business._

_The Ministry of Magic has made every effort to accommodate requests for marriages received since the initial planning of this resolution, but we are unable to fulfill everyone's wish. Therefore, we have taken petitions and requests into consideration in pairing each wizard and witch with a suitable partner. The matches were drawn from the personality questionnaires collected by the Ministry this past year. Although we recognize that this resolution is not ideal, we must work to strengthen the numbers of our community. We appreciate your understanding. _

_Below is a list of the petitions and requests we received for a legal union with Ms. Hermione Granger:  
Ronald B. Weasley  
Neville Q. Longbottom  
Percy A. Weasley  
Cormac H. McLaggen  
Terry K. Boot_

_We recognized these requests and gave them due consideration. However, upon consideration of other eligible wizards in your age range and the parameters established by your personality evaluations, we have selected you to be paired with the following wizard:_

_George F. Weasley_

_As per the Marriage Resolution, you and Mr. Weasley will be expected to marry within six months of the date you received this notice. The Ministry feels that this union will be extremely beneficial to both parties involved as well as the wider wizarding community. Violators of the Marriage Resolution will have their wands revoked for a period of up to five years. Expulsion from the Wizarding community will only serve to negate the goals of this resolution and will not be considered. Requests to change assignments will only be granted in extreme cases, such as unknown family feuds, different sexual orientations, history of violence, or a partner's willingness to have wands revoked. We highly encourage that you follow the regulations set forth in this letter. We appreciate your cooperation and expect to see your marriage license before the Council for Legal Unions within six months.  
_

_Sincerely,_

_Addleworth Consortia  
Assistant to Nigel Consumma, Chairman of the Council on Re-Population_

Hermione's heart sank. The whispers had been true, after all. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister of Magic, had hinted that the council would do something like this, and he wouldn't have the power to stop it. Hermione hadn't believed it, though, for several reasons, such as the de-population only being severe in the British Isles and the resolution itself being more reminiscent of Cornelius Fudge's ministry than Kingsley's.

However, here she was, three years after the Great War, and the next five years of her life had just been handed over to the ministry. She understood the purpose, yes, but there had to have been a better way around it, like offering compensation for having multiple children over the next few years. Forced marriage seemed so twelfth century. Hermione supposed this council, like so many other parts of Wizarding culture, were indeed vestiges of that time.

Hermione's ruminations were then rudely interrupted by her flatmate, Ginny Weasley, younger sister of her now betrothed. The fiery redhead came bursting through the front door, curses flying from her mouth.

"Hermione! Please tell me they didn't send you a ruddy letter?" Hermione simply held up the parchment in her hand, and Ginny groaned.

"I can't believe it. I thought Kingsley was just being dark last time he was 'round for dinner. I was at the Burrow for breakfast and the letters came in for everyone there – well, for Ron and Harry and Percy. Did my letter arrive?"

Hermione gestured toward the kitchen table, where her thick envelope lay, addressed in green ink.

"Who did everyone get paired with?"

Ginny was fumbling with her letter. "Well, Harry is apparently exempt from the law because of his "extreme sacrifices" he made during the war – not like you didn't make them, too – so he didn't get one. He apparently petitioned for me, though, so I'm hoping…" Ginny trailed off, and then gave a cry of surprise and pleasure. "I'm set for Harry, but I'd have never expected these other petitions. Colin Creevey? Blaise Zabini? And ugh, Crabbe."

"What about Ron?"

"Oh, he's gotten himself paired up with Victoria Frobisher."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"She was a Gryffindor, my year. Apparently Ron competed against her for the Keeper position one year."

"Interesting. I don't think I've ever met her."

"She was president of the Charms Club back then, but it's not surprising. She's a quiet girl, spent almost as much time in the library as you. I haven't seen her in four years. Percy got someone named Audrey. I don't recall ever meeting her, but I think she was a Hufflepuff prefect around the time Percy was." Ginny paused, rereading her letter and smiling faintly. "Harry and I had been talking marriage before this resolution was passed. We were going to wait another year or two. But, it seems as good a time as any. Oh," Ginny looked up suddenly. "Please tell me you aren't marrying a Slytherin or something."

Hermione smiled forcibly and shook her head in the negative. "Nope. I've been paired with George."

Ginny dropped the bowl she had been getting from the cabinet. It shattered into dozens of pieces on the stone tile of the kitchen. "Wh-what?" she spluttered. "George, my brother George? Why not Ron?"

"Come on, Ginny. You know that ship sailed a few years ago. Ron petitioned, apparently, as did Percy."

"Percy?" Ginny laughed, stooping to pick up the glass shards.

"You saw how he was all over me last Christmas, gushing about how we were so much alike. Your mum seemed kind of happy about it. She told me she had always wanted me as a daughter."

"Well, she got her wish. Just not the son she was expecting."

"Indeed." Hermione fell silent for a minute. "Ginny? I haven't even seen George in months. Is he alright?"

Ginny cocked her head. "I haven't seen him but for a few minutes at his shop last week. I was helping restock the U-No-Poo."

"I should probably go talk to him." At these words, an owl with a scroll clamped in its beak flew in through the open window. The bright magenta ribbon tied around the parchment slid off easily, and Hermione read the short note.

_Hermione,_

_I think we should get together to talk. I'm sure you received your letter by now, and I think it would be best if we sort this out before the deadline. I'm sure Ginny knows by now as you live with her, but it would be best if we tell Mum together. I'm going to be at the shop all day and can't get away, but if you could swing by at your convenience, if you're not busy, that would be great._

_George_


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione scrawled off a quick response to George's missive on the back of his note.

George,

Yes, we need to discuss the new developments. I must be at work soon, but I will stop by on my lunch break, around half noon. I'll have some time then.

Until then,

Hermione

After bidding farewell to Ginny and sending her note off with George's owl, Hermione left for work. In the three years since the war, Hermione had received numerous job offers, including several at the Ministry. However, her unease about the Ministry was still embedded in her, and she was currently spearheading a research project for an independent potions firm, Elixers 4 Everyone. They were Great Britain's largest supplier of ready-made medicinal potions, and were currently trying to break into new markets. Hermione was overseeing a team of researchers looking into safe and effective household cleaners. Hermione knew from her own experiences that things could get messy at home, and Scourgify spells only did so much compared to elbow grease (and even Muggle products) – an easy, effective potion would go a long way in the Wizarding community. Today, Hermione had several meetings, most notably with the marketing team, and a product test to oversee.

Flooing into work, Hermione was met with a scene of chaos. Two of her researchers had gotten in the way on another project and were currently covered in enormous, bright purple pustules. They were being carted off to St. Mungo's as Hermione stepped into the atrium, shedding her coat. Upon retreating into her office, Hermione was accosted by her one remaining employee, a bright young wizard fresh from Durmstrang with a thick accent that made communication difficult sometimes. He was very concerned about his co-workers, and requested that he be able to accompany them to the hospital. As they were well ahead of schedule on the research, and Hermione needed the time to think, she gratefully sent him on his way, promising to stop by later.

Locking herself into her office, Hermione leaned against her desk, staring up at the ceiling and biting her lips (as she always did when nervous or troubled). She made quite a sight – Hermione Granger, always in control, suddenly feeling lost and helpless in her too-high heels and pinstriped skirt. After a few minutes, though, Hermione realized that agonizing over the issue wouldn't do her any good at the moment, and instead sat down behind her desk to prepare for her first meeting, scarcely half an hour from now.

The morning flew by, and Hermione left at eleven for a long lunch break. She stopped by St. Mungo's with flowers and Chocolate Frogs for her staff, told them to take the rest of the week off (those pustules looked incredibly painful), and left for Diagon Alley a little before noon.

The alley was thick with Christmas shoppers when Hermione emerged from the Leaky Cauldron. It was only two weeks to the holiday, and the English weather was leaving much to be desired. Rather than the snow everyone was hoping for, a depressing drizzle had plagued the area for several days, leaving icy patches on the ground and fog everywhere. Luckily, the sun had made an appearance today, and Hermione picked her way through the throng with the weak sunshine warming her face, carefully avoiding the ice in her heels.

As she still had a little time before she planned to meet George, Hermione headed down the road. She picked up her book order at Flourish and Blotts, and then headed back up the road with her parcel tucked neatly in her bag. She stopped at a food cart for two steaming cups of coffee, exchanging pleasantries with the witch in the earmuffs taking her coins, and steeled herself for meeting with George.

Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was bustling, as always. Hermione had never seen the shoppe with fewer than fifteen people in it, except when it was closed. Today was no exception. Although the older kids were still at Hogwarts, children roamed everywhere, some with parents or friends in tow, and the room was an explosion of color and sound. Hermione, as always, was slightly overwhelmed. George called out to her from across the room.

"Head to the back room, I'll meet you in a minute."

Hermione did as she was told, sidling behind the counter with the briefest nod to the cashier, who recognized her right away. She let herself into George's study, the walls mercifully sound-proofed, and leaned against one of the drafting tables, wisely forgoing the rickety stool in the corner. George appeared moments later, his magenta work robes dusty.

"Sorry, Hermione. It's been a crazy day here. Well, crazier than usual, anyway. How are you?" George said all this in a rush, looking her up and down. Noticing the path of his gaze, Hermione suddenly felt self-conscious of her curvy frame clad in the pencil skirt and short-sleeved blouse. She held out the coffee to George and responded.

"I've been better, but considering the circumstances, I am doing quite well. You? I haven't seen you at Sunday dinner in a few weeks."

"Yeah, I've been neglecting that. Christmas is our busiest season, and I've been staying open later on the weekends to accommodate the crowds. Ginny was supposed to pass along my apologies."

"She did." They lapsed into momentary silence before George spoke up.

"Look, Hermione, I know this situation isn't ideal, but I think we can make it work. We never got on at school, but I like the Hermione I've gotten to know over the past few years. I think if we lay out some things now, we can make this work in both our favour."

"I think that's a very reasonable suggestion, and I was thinking along similar lines. I won't pretend that I have a desire to get married right now, but I think, given the circumstances, I'm just lucky to be paired with someone I know fairly well and consider family."

George nodded in agreement. "You know, Hermione, I have tried to look on you like a little sister, but I won't pretend that I've never noticed you as a woman. I know you see me as a brother, but we're going to have to adjust that point of view, or it might get weird."

And Hermione did. She looked at George closely, from his disheveled hair to his long, elegant fingers. He was an attractive man. "I think I can get used to that, George."

He flashed her a winning smile and then got down to business.

"I propose we discuss the particulars. Do you have any known fertility problems?"

"George!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but it is something we're going to have to discuss, given that we're expected to produce children."

Still red in the face, Hermione nodded and cleared her throat. "Well, yes. When I was tortured during the war, a lot of unmentionable things happened, and some of them have left scars. The Healers say it's unlikely, though possible, that I will have children."

George's face fell, and he seemed to regret this line of questioning. "I didn't know, I'm sorry Mione."

"Not many people do know. Just you and Ginny. But you're right, you do have a right to know."

"Well, if it's any consolation, we Weasley men are well-suited for producing children. If anyone can knock you up, it's one of us!" He grinned cheekily at her. "On a more serious note, I always wanted to have twins. But no more than three kids. It was crazy growing up with all of us."

"To be honest, George, I'm not sure I ever really wanted children. Not that I have much of a choice at this point, but I just never planned for it in my future."

"Understandable. Let's discuss a happier topic, though. A wedding date. I think it would be in our best interest to go into dinner tonight having something planned, or Mum's going to go crazy planning it for us. I don't know about you, but I don't really want something big."

"Big is all Molly knows how to do," Hermione laughed. "How about we start by setting a date?"

"Three months, is it? How about early February. There will be a good chance of snow, and you'd make a fabulous winter bride."

Hermione blushed, but agreed. "Can we keep it simple? I don't want to spend a lot of money on a dress or anything."

"Nonsense, you'll have whatever dress and decorations you want. I don't know if you've noticed, Hermione, but I'm a very successful businessman," George drew himself up, feigning superiority, "and you're not living a hard lifestyle either. We can afford to make it something we'll both enjoy, considering you only get married for the first time once." George grinned at her as she screwed up her face, trying to follow what he had just said. Ultimately, she agreed, and they settled into more general conversation.

By the time Hermione left at half one, they had settled on a date (February 6) and Hermione would be scouting the location over the weekend (a church in her parents' hometown). They decided on colors (green and gold), the maid of honor (Ginny), and the best man (Lee Jordan). They agreed to keep it small (under thirty people) and knew what kind of food they wanted to serve (finger foods and very little alcohol). They had also agreed to wait until June or July to start trying to get pregnant (Hermione being ever logical), as Hermione had no intention of being as big as a house in the hot summer months.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione went back to work after her meeting with George, but couldn't wrap her mind around the grant paperwork she was trying to complete. They had agreed to meet at the shop before heading over to the Burrow; George would be closing shop two full hours earlier than his posted schedule, and Hermione leaving work half an hour early. By half three, however, Hermione couldn't concentrate (or attempt to) any longer, and she locked her office, heading home. A long shower was in her future, along with a calming cup of tea.

Emerging from the shower much later, Hermione felt refreshed if not ready to tackle dinner. Hermione had ignored Molly's owl out to her adopted daughter and the pleas from Harry and Ron. She wanted to tell them in person, and she knew Molly would be more pleased to hear it from them tonight. It wasn't the first time Molly had dropped hints that she would like Hermione as family, but they had normally involved Ron and their wilting relationship. In light of her still strained friendship with Ron, Hermione wasn't sure how to go about telling him.

By quarter to five, Hermione was dressed and ready for dinner at the Burrow. Although she normally wore jeans and jumpers, Hermione was nervous and dressed to hide her disquiet. Her heels sculpted her legs, which seemed to melt out of her jade-green dress. Glancing in the hall mirror, topped with a creamy wrap and a distinct lack of jewelry, Hermione locked the door behind her and Apparated to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. She landed outside the front door as George was flipping his sign to closed. He led her inside, placing a perfunctory kiss against her jawbone. She could tell he was a bit flustered, and his work robes were splattered with something bright blue.

"New batch of Snackboxes exploded on me," he grinned, noticing the direction of her gaze.

He walked around, closing the shop, and invited her upstairs. The two had occasionally gone out for drinks over the years, but Hermione had rarely seen his flat, and only once since Fred had died. Scarcely three months after the funeral, the flat had been littered with trash and clutter. Fred's items were still where he had last left them, and George couldn't bring himself to throw any of it out. Now, the flat was clean, if still a little cluttered. The main room held a new couch and a large desk. A fireplace dominated one wall, and Hermione could see a spotless kitchen at the end of the hall. George left her in the den for a few minutes as he went into his bedroom to change from his work robes. Hermione browsed the crammed bookshelf in the room – ever the academic – and was surprised by the depth of some of the texts.

"I had no idea you knew Muggle science," she called out, thumbing through a tome on string theory.

"It kind of came with the territory of marketing to Muggles. We had to make the products we sold believable in their world so we wouldn't get found out. Fr- Fred and I spent a few months learning everything we could about Muggle theories." He came out, adjusting his shirt under the three-button vest he wore. The deep purple of the shirt complimented his hair nicely, and his slacks were clearly tailored, and nicely so. "Do I look presentable?"

"Very. Not that anyone would have been surprised if you had showed up in a chicken suit."

"You think that's more appropriate? I can go change. I think I've got a matching egg costume if you'd like to get out of those," he cheekily responded, flashing the famous Weasley smile. Hermione allowed herself to look him over, and she decided that George was indeed one of the more attractive Weasley men. Maybe she was biased because she had to spend the next five years of her life with the man, but he really was quite attractive with his bright, hazel eyes and beard stubble. He was tall, but not gangly like Ron or Percy had been, nor was he overly muscled like Bill and Charlie, whose professions required it. He filled his clothing nicely, and his profits, when not furthering the business or helping the family, were well-spent on his clothing and home. Nothing was flashy or expensive, but it was clearly well made. Hermione's furniture, though comfortable, was shabby by comparison.

George was attempting to tie a silk tie on as he followed her gaze. "Ginny helped me pick it out, but I think I did rather well with the colors."

"It looks nice. I haven't been here since – since before you redecorated."

A nod of his curly red head conveyed that he understood and appreciated her evasion, and he smiled at her. "Shall we, my dear?"

Hermione nodded and headed for the door, but George's voice stopped her.

"Oh, forgot one thing." She turned around to see him on one knee.

"George? What are you doing?"

"Tying my shoes, what do you think?" he grinned cheekily, holding a small velvet box out to her. "Hermione I-don't-know-your-middle-name Granger, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife even though you have already been legally forced to do so?" The ring he held out to her was gorgeous, and Hermione couldn't help smiling as she agreed. He slipped the ring onto her hand, and Hermione was stunned to find it fit perfectly, a simple silver band studded with a large marquis diamond and flanked with two emeralds – her favorite stone. The look of astonishment on her face must have been amusing, because George chuckled warmly and explained that he had a knack for jewelry. "I always did have more style than my brothers."

"Clearly. Ron tried to buy me earrings once and they were hideous. This is far and away the most beautiful piece I have ever owned."

"Well," George said, standing and clapping his hands together, "shall we venture into the disaster that awaits us at the Burrow?"

"Lead the way, Mr. Weasley."


	4. Chapter 4

George took her hand – the left one, with the beautiful new ring on it – and pulled her to him. He Apparated them away with a faint pop, and they landed just outside the garden gate. Hermione picked her way across the icy path in her heels, regretting the decision immediately. She was nervous, and didn't know what to make of what was bound to happen once inside. George seemed to sense her nerves and stopped her just outside the door.

"Listen, I know you're nervous. I am, too. But there's no need to be. Mum loves you, my family loves you. It's not like you have any extra hurdles to cross."

"I'm just worried about everyone's reaction."

"I know you are, Mione, but they'll deal with it. They'll have to, we have no choice unless the Ministry suddenly decides to repeal the law. Knowing the Ministry, even if they start the repeal tomorrow, they won't be done until the statute runs out anyway."

Hermione giggled and drew in a deep breath. "Alright, George. Let's go break the news to Molly."

George opened the door and held for Hermione, who stepped across the threshold into the bustle and warmth that could only be the Burrow. It seemed they were right on time for dinner – everyone was starting to sit down.

Molly cried out in surprise and hurried to meet them.

"George, dear, I was worried you hadn't gotten my message." She kissed him on the cheek. "And Hermione, I'm happy you could make it tonight. I know how busy you can get." She hugged and kissed Hermione, who smiled broadly at her.

"I always make time for you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Yes, yes, I know you do. Now, hurry, sit down. Ron, pull up two more chairs!"

They followed a harried Mrs. Weasley back into the dining area, and squeezed into the chairs provided. Hermione found herself sandwiched between George and Harry. After placing a quick kiss on Harry's cheek and sliding off her wrap, she settled in for dinner.

The conversation was a little awkward, Hermione could tell. All of the Weasleys were present save for Bill and his wife, and, of course, Fred. Ron and his wife-to-be were awkward around each other, and conversation didn't come easily. Percy's betrothed hardly got a word in edgewise with him, but that was normal. The Weasley matriarch was beaming around the table, and when her eyes fell on Hermione halfway through the soup, she called out to her.

"Hermione, dear. I haven't heard who you're marrying in all this Ministry mess."

"Oh, erm, well." She glanced at Ron, then at George, who nodded to her. "Well, George and I are getting married."

The table gradually fell silent as the Weasleys processed what she had just said. Ron was looking at her with a hurt expression, but the majority of the table just looked surprised.

"Well, don't congratulate us, or anything," smirked George into the silence.

"Oh, Georgie! Hermione! This is wonderful!" Molly exploded from her stunned silence, clapping her hands. "Oh, Hermione, I always knew you'd be part of the family someday!" Ron glowered at this, but Hermione didn't have time to say a word to him as Harry hugged her from the side and the Weasley men congratulated George. Ginny caught sight of Hermione's ring as she reached up to brush her hair aside, and the women at the table started squealing with pleasure at the sight of the stone.

Soon enough, conversation returned to normal levels, and Hermione was able to talk to Harry beside her.

"Well, Hermione. That's not a match I ever thought I'd see."

"I know, Harry. But it could have been a lot worse, considering who petitioned for me."

"Get some rotten apples, did you?"

"Understatement. Why Malfoy would ever want to be with me, I have no idea."

"Malfoy, hmm? Well, I always thought he had it in for you. I mean, aside from hating everything you were."

Hermione smacked him across the arm and said in a low voice, "Ron petitioned, too. I think he's angry with me. Like I had a say in it."

Harry nodded and nudged her with his shoulder. "Don't worry too much, Mione. He's got a thick hide – and head. It'll hurt that you're marrying his brother, but he'll get over it. I know you two haven't been on the best terms since the break-up, but it'll blow over someday."

She smiled at thanked him before being drawn into wedding conversation by Ginny, who sat across from her. They talked dates and dresses for a while, Hermione feeling ever more aware that Ron was staring her down. Molly called for wine over dessert, and Hermione used it as an excuse to remove herself from the table. She slipped into the kitchen under the pretense of getting the bottles and glasses, and leaned over the sink.

Taking deep breaths, Hermione tried to calm herself. Her nerves were mutinying, her brain frazzled. Her dress was wrinkling, and as Hermione smoothed the fabric, blinking back tears, the door opened behind her.

"Mione?" It was George. "You alright?"

Turning, she caught sight of the worried expression on his face. He saw her tears and immediately rushed to her side, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Oh, Mione. It'll be alright. You two will work something out."

Nodding into his shoulder, Hermione sighed. "It's a little strenuous between us already, George, and he's been glaring at me all night."

"I know," he murmured, "I saw. But let's not dwell on it, yeah? A couple of glasses of wine will make the conversation easier, and he's got his own marriage to worry about."

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Hermione followed George back into the dining room, bottles of wine and a dozen glasses floating in front of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Three glasses of wine later left only Harry, Ron, Hermione, a handful of Weasley siblings, and George in the den. Everyone else had gone home or to bed, including the Weasley parents. George and Harry were playing chess (Ginny trying her best to distract Harry) and Hermione was standing next to the doorway, caught by Percy in a lecture on the best way to slice horned toads. Ron was sitting in the corner, glowering at Hermione. Unbeknownst to her, George was actually watching Ron out of the corner of his eye. The whole Weasley clan knew of Ron's infamous temper, and the warning signs of an explosion were everywhere. Harry seemed blissfully unaware, caught up in Ginny and how George's inattention was causing him to have the upper hand.

As Hermione excused herself to go talk to George after many minutes, Ron finally stood up. He slammed his glass down on the table, and marched over to Hermione.

"Why in the name of Merlin's saggy left buttock didn't you tell me?!" he shouted, grabbing her arm.

"Let go of me!" Hermione hissed, wrenching her arm away and stomping her foot in anger. "Don't you dare talk to me like that, Ron Weasley. You know very well that we only got our letters this morning."

"That doesn't matter. You could have told me you were marrying my brother! You knew I petitioned for you! Why didn't you petition for me? I thought you loved me! WE could be getting married! Instead, you had to pass over me for my brother. Why, Hermione? Am I not good enough for you?"

"To be honest, Ron, no. You're not good enough for me." Hermione straightened herself out, shoulders squared and a glare on her face. "You petitioned for me, I know. So did a lot of other people! But I'm better than you and I deserve more. You left Hogwarts full of dreams, and you're still living in your parent's house, not following any of them. You lack the ambition I want in a partner, and you certainly could have been a better lover. Why would I resign myself to a life with you, a life we both know we don't want? Or are you forgetting that I left you for precisely those reasons, Ron? I deserve more than someone who doesn't appreciate me, but I've tried to keep our friendship afloat, with no help from you. At least with George I've got someone who respects my intellect instead of belittles it and won't ask me to give up a career to raise his children! I may not know him very well, Ron, but he's already a far sight better than you!"

Ron was bright red, and he reached out to grab her again. George and Harry both rushed up, trying to restrain him, but Hermione beat them to it. In a split second, her balled fist had connected hard with Ron's cheekbone, and Hermione stumbled on her heels after the impact. Ginny whooped and then rushed to her side while the boys struggled with Ron, bringing him down to the ground. Harry kneeled on his arms, pinning him down, and George was yelling.

Hermione sat down on an armchair, and ran her hands through her hair. Ron seemed to have given up on the ground, and George ran from the room, fuming. Percy had disappeared in the commotion.

Hermione was taking a gulp of wine when George returned. He crouched down in front of Ron and forced him to look him in the eye.

"Look, Ron. I know you loved her in some twisted way, but what's done is done. Hermione and I are getting married whether you like it or not. No, it's not what we planned, either of us, but we're dealing with it, because we're rational, logical people. What you feel for her is important to you, I know, but Hermione's a wonderful woman, and she's right: she does deserve better than you. Now, we're leaving, and I expect you to calm the bloody fuck down."

Ron practically growled, but nodded. George shot one more disgusted look at him, pinned to the floor, and then went to help Hermione up. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Hermione's flat was dark when she let herself and George in moments later. Ginny wouldn't be home that night – celebrating with Harry, of course – and when Hermione expressed this to George, he grew concerned.

"I'm not sure I want you staying by yourself, Mione." He didn't say it, but she knew he was worried about Ron coming.

"George, I'm fully capable of taking care of myself, or did you not see that wicked punch I just threw at him?" She toed off her heels and hopped up on the kitchen counter. As she flexed her sore leg muscles, she continued. "I appreciate your concern, but I think he knows better than to try anything with me anytime soon. This isn't the first time we've had a tiff like this."

"You mean he's manhandled you before?" George growled.

"George, what's done is done, as you said earlier. My relationship with Ron ended for many reasons, and he just hasn't come to terms with that."

"What exactly happened with you two, Hermione? No one in the family seems to know."

Sighing, Hermione hopped off the counter and started making tea, puttering around barefoot and still a little tipsy. "It's a long story, George."

"Even so, I'd like to know what disaster I've gotten myself into."

Sighing, Hermione leaned onto the counter. "Where to begin? We only dated for a year or so, you know. Everyone threw up this big fuss about us being destined to be together, and Ron was spewing it all, too. I don't believe in soul mates, George, and I don't think he did either, but all the talk that was going on, in the family, in the press, it went to his head. He started getting cocky – well, cockier – and things started to get rough. He was still living with your parents eight months into the relationship, and I was getting fed up with sneaking around Molly and Arthur. He refused to move out or start looking for jobs, was content to let Molly take care of him. And when she started taking care of him less, he expected me to do it. But I had a life – friends, a new career – and I didn't have time to do his laundry and cook when I was barely getting my own clothes cleaned and eating dry cereal for dinner. I was working ten and twelve hours a day and he did nothing but sit around. And then he'd declare whenever the topic was brought up that I would _of course_ stop working when we got married. He expected me to just sit around and pop out babies, like your mum. And I mean no offense to your mum or my mum, but that's just not for me. I'm not overly fond of children in general, and I don't think I'd be a great mum, so having lots of kids and being a stay-at-home parent just wasn't in the cards for me. He didn't understand that."

"Was he ever violent with you?"

"He'd get angry, sure. I'd tell him that I had my own plans and that he had to take that into account, and he'd get frustrated. I'd tell him he needed a job, and he'd get drunk instead. He raised his hand to me a few times, when he was sauced, and I'd back him down pretty quickly. I'm too quick with my wand, and I'm not a bad punch," she finished, holding up her bruised hand. The engagement ring sparkled against the purplish-red of her knuckles. She admired it for a moment, a smile playing across her lips.

"Anyway, when he proposed, I broke up with him. He gave me this horrid, clunky old ring. The stone was loose and it was three sizes too big. He bought it at an old curio shop, and it was clearly made of tin and glass. I may live cheaply," she said, gesturing around her sparse kitchen, "but I have taste. He bought the first thing he saw, and didn't care if I liked it. He expected me to say yes, of course, so when I refused him, he blew up. He was confused for a minute, and then he got angry. We yelled ourselves hoarse and he landed one punch before I had him tied up on the ground. I broke up with him on the spot, kicked him out of my flat, and didn't speak to him for two months."

George was visibly shaking with anger – the Weasley temper. "I can't believe he laid a hand on you," he hissed.

"George, look at me." Hermione walked over to him and forced his head down. "I thought Ron and I had made amends over this years ago, but he's apparently still sore. I don't love him, and I doubt I ever did. I don't think he did either, but he thought he was getting everything he wanted when he asked me to marry him. It's over, and he was angry tonight because my marrying you was a solid end to any chance of a relationship. If I were marrying someone else, he'd probably be okay. But now he has to see me married to his brother, where he hoped he would have been. I'm sure he's comparing himself to you. I remember, a long time ago, Harry told me about Ron always feeling like he had to measure up to the rest of you. Bill and Percy were Head Boy, Charlie Quidditch captain, and you and Fred were popular and smart – and look at you all now. You're the most profitable businessman in Diagon Alley, Charlie and Bill have extremely exciting jobs, and Percy's high up in the Ministry. He's sitting at home doing nothing. His time to shine was during the war, and now the war is over. I can understand his frustration at losing out to another brother." George moved to interrupt, but Hermione cut him off. "I didn't say I excused or forgave his actions, but I do understand where they're coming from."

"I see your point, and you talk a lot. This is why they teased you in school, isn't it?"

Hermione was affronted, and George scrambled to explain himself. "I don't mean that you talking a lot is a bad thing. I'm merely commenting on the fact that you talk a lot – and you're extremely lucid and elaborate in your explanations. I think it's fascinating how logical you are; I mean, if it were me, I'd be right pissed, and I would never have given Ron the time of day. But you think things through, and it's admirable how you can empathize so clearly. I know I used to tease you for being a know-it-all, but you're brilliant, and I admire that. Don't take this the wrong way, but your intellect has benefited all the more from your maturing. I feel like I know better what I'm walking into, marrying you and all."

Hermione had calmed down during George's speech, as awkward and stumbling as it was. She poured tea for the two of them and they sat down at the scrubbed wooden table. They were silent for a few minutes before Hermione asked a question that had been lingering in the back of her mind.

"George, why are you so calm about marrying me? About the whole mess? I mean, I like you and all, but I'm a mess of nerves inside about the whole situation. How are you so level-headed?"

"It's because you're so damn sexy."

Hermione laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. "Seriously, George."

George tapped his mug with a fingernail, pondering. "Well, I guess it's a lot to do with F-Fred's death. I never expected to lose him. It's still really difficult not having him there by my side all the time. I mean, we hardly spent two days apart for twenty years. I love all of my brothers, and Ginny, but with Fred, it was something special." He paused, collecting himself and drinking his tea. "One of the last conversations I ever had with him was about my love life. See, he'd always been the more forward of the two of us, always dating. I had my fun here and there, but Fred was always in a relationship, since our third year. He was giving serious thought to proposing to Angelina, and I hadn't been with anyone in months. He was teasing me about my bachelorhood, and then he got serious. He said, 'There's nothing like finding the one you love, Georgie. Being drunk on the sight of them, carried away to heaven on their laugh. It's like nothing you've ever known, a bond that has no comparison. I hope you find that, Georgie, but you've got to give yourself a chance.'" A pause, and Hermione gracefully looked away as George blinked back tears. "I guess I'm taking this resolution as an opportunity. Maybe I won't find that with you, maybe I will. But I won't know unless I open my eyes to the possibility. I owe it to myself, and there's nothing wrong with sorting out a happy relationship in the course of it. It just doesn't make sense to go into this upset or feeling doomed to failure."

Hermione was silent, but gazed at George appraisingly. He was handsome, to be sure, with his fiery curls and rakish smile, and those eyes were easy to get lost in. But beneath the sharply-dressed exterior, he really was quite intelligent, and Hermione had never seen this much depth in him before. Maybe the Ministry does know what they're doing, for once.

"I agree. It'll certainly be an adventure." Hermione hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud until George responded, and she blushed.

"In any case, Hermione, I'd like to take you out on a proper date sometime soon. Get things started off on the right foot. No talk of marriage, no family drama, just the two of us, getting to know each other as individuals."

Hermione readily agreed, and they set a date for the following Tuesday. She walked him to her front door, and as he was turning to leave, he brushed a soft kiss against her cheek, near the jawline. He whisked away into the night, and Hermione found herself smiling into the empty apartment for hours to come.


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the week flew by, and Hermione began to ready herself for a trip to her hometown, where she would be visiting several churches, trying to find one suitable for the ceremony. Fortunately, an old friend of George's who had grown up in the area knew where a magic-friendly church was, in a suburb of the city. The pastor there was married to a wizard, the friend said. A benefit of going to a church where the news from Wizarding Britain was known was not having to fabricate a sappy love story to tell the clergy; they would already know of the marriage law and Hermione would be spared the effort. Hermione packed a small bag, and left Friday evening. She took the train, even though she could have Apparated directly into her parents' old home, which she now owned. Upon their death the previous year, their assets had reverted to her, and this would be the first time she had been "home" since their funeral.

The ride to Sheffield from London felt longer than it actually was, and with all the stops, Hermione arrived in Sheffield around six in the morning. She rented a car at the train station (Hermione had received her Muggle driving license just after the war), and left for her parents' home. As she pulled into the drive, Hermione was overwhelmed with sorrow and guilt. She parked the car, dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel, and tried to blink back the tears, to no avail. They came anyway, fierce and hot. In less than two months, she would be married, and her parents would never be able to see the day. Hermione was almost grateful, for they certainly would not understand why Hermione was simply not returning to her Muggle life. Hermione herself didn't quite understand, either.

Hermione got out of the car and walked up to the dark house, berating herself for coming alone. She should have brought Ginny with her, at the least. Resolving to send her an owl the next day, Hermione let herself into the house with shaking hands. The electricity had been turned off months ago, but, being a witch, Hermione had no problems with conjuring up some light. She crept along the hallways of her childhood into her parents' old bedroom. It was just as she had left it, perhaps a little dustier than usual. She cast a handy little cleaning charm Molly had taught her and the dust vanished. The water was on to prevent the pipes from freezing, so Hermione washed her face and set to bed. The gas heat was enough to warm the house to a tolerable level, and she climbed into her parents' bed, luxuriating in the blankets and sheets she remembered from her childhood, sinking into the pillows she had cried upon with her mother.

For the first time, Hermione allowed herself to feel the anger. Anger at not being able to help her parents when they had been shot by an angry former patient who couldn't pay his bills. Anger at herself for not visiting more often. Anger at the situation she was currently in, marrying someone she didn't love for reasons that she could hardly fathom. She wasn't angry at George; no, he was simply trying to make the best of it, and she understood his stance. But why was Hermione so level-headed? She had every right to be angry, to be upset. Part of her wanted to return to Muggle life and avoid the situation entirely, but a larger part of her was so wound up the Wizarding community, with her new life, that she couldn't pull away even if she wanted. And then there was George.

George. Level, funny, charming George. George and his smart business plans and wild imagination. George, with a secret sorrow in him Hermione could only begin to understand, since losing her parents. George, who had driven her mad as a prefect trying to keep order in the common room. George, whose vast intellect impressed her. George, at whom she had never looked twice. She loved George as a brother, but could she love him as a man? Hermione drifted to sleep, welcoming the darkness.

The next morning, Hermione went into town to check the church. The pastor and her husband knew she was coming, and they met her at the front door. It was a quaint church, hardly large enough for their congregation. The stained glass was beautiful, and it had a weathered, well-loved air about it. The sanctuary was richly decorated, flowers and polished wood everywhere, and Hermione loved it immediately. It was an Anglican church, and Hermione had grown up Catholic. She had no great attachment to the church, but respected those who did. She spoke very little to the pastor, who was sympathetic. She complained about the law, exclaimed over Hermione's ring, and was silent while Hermione walked the church. In the end, Hermione booked the church for the ceremony, pleased with the day's work.

On her way back to her parent's house, Hermione stopped by a local shoppe she knew to be wizard-run. After a short conversation with the owner, she was led into a back room where several owls awaited her. The proprietor was a short, squat man who used his boutique as a front for magical correspondence. A few Sickles later and Hermione had sent a missive to Ginny, asking that she meet her at her parents' home later that evening. She went home, and waited.

By the time Ginny arrived, Hermione had cleaned the entire house, and had packed up what remained of her and her parents' possessions. With Ginny's help, she enlisted a realtor who would sell the house in Hermione's stead. The two showed the realtor around, who was charmed by the house. Hermione's parents had seen that the house was in full repair, and their professions allowed them to be lavish and elegant in their decorations. The house, in a great neighborhood, would no doubt sell for a quarter of a million pounds. Hermione and Ginny carted the few boxes and containers out to the car, and after the realtor left, took turns Apparating the boxes to Hermione's flat. After Ginny ran with the last load, Hermione returned the car to the rental company, found a quiet place to Apparate, and met Ginny at her flat. Ginny had opened a bottle of wine and was sitting on the couch with two glasses when Hermione entered.

"Okay, Hermione. What's gotten into you?"

"What do you mean, Ginny?"

"You and I both know you haven't been to that house in months. I was sure you were going to leave it untouched for years. Why the sudden change of heart?"

A few sips of wine. "Well, I think it's partially the marriage law. I know I'll need the money for the kids I'm supposed to have, and while I don't want to be a stay-at-home parent, I will probably take a couple of years off. The sale of the house will support me during that time."

"You know George makes more than enough to support a family, right Mione?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but given that it's only going to be five years, I will need a nest egg to start back up with. It may only be five years with George, but it's a lifetime with children."

"There's no way George will let you support those kids on your own, you and I both know that. Anyway, a lot can happen in five years."

"I think part of it is also that I couldn't stand my parents seeing me in this position, in an arranged marriage, to someone they have never met and that I don't love. I think it's just a way for me to start over, in any way I can." Hermione cleared her throat, took a gulp of the Pinot Noir, and changed the subject. "So when are you and Harry tying the knot?"

Ginny babbled on about the wedding for quite a while, with only minimal input from Hermione, who let her mind wander to her own wedding. She never expected, less than a week ago, that she would be planning her own wedding. It was only eight weeks away. Ginny's and Harry's wedding would be front page news, and part of Ginny loved being in the spotlight, but Hermione was hoping to avoid a lot of attention. It's not every day that one of the illustrious "Golden Trio" married one of the most prominent businessmen in Britain; there would surely be some press coverage.

Ginny left at a quarter past midnight, headed home to Harry (they'd moved in together immediately following the Ministry announcement), and Hermione curled up in bed. She planned to spend Sunday cleaning her neglected flat and treating herself to a much-needed manicure.


	7. Chapter 7

Monday rolled around much too quickly, and Tuesday even more so. Hermione had all but forgotten about her date that evening with George, and as such, was still in the office when he came to pick her up. Upon getting no answer at her flat, George had assumed correctly she would still be at work (everyone knew what a work-a-holic Hermione Granger was). It took him a little while to find her office, and when he had, he took a moment to lean against the door frame and just look at his future wife.

Hermione's hair was a mess, as usual, the curls tumbling from their hasty up-do in twisting tendrils. A pair of rectangular, metal rimmed glasses was perched on the end of her nose, and small diamond earrings glinted on her tiny ears. She was wearing a form-fitting, sleeveless cream turtleneck sweater, and George could see a suit jacket hanging on a wall peg. He followed the cable knit of the sweater down to her waist and below to where a tight black pencil skirt showed off her curvy hips. Her smooth, creamy legs ended in a pair of petite bare feet. Hermione was currently pacing around the office, muttering to herself and stopping every so often to scribble something down on a long sheaf of parchment. After admiring Hermione's curvy backside for a few moments as she was writing, George cleared his throat.

"George! Oh, Merlin! You scared me half to death!" Hermione was flushed, embarassed. "Ah, shite. It's past time to meet you, isn't it? My watch broke over the weekend and I don't have a clock in here, I'm so sor-"

"Hermione," George laughed. "It's fine. Are you ready to go, or do you need some more time?"

"I was hoping to go home and change, but I won't keep you waiting any longer."

"Are you sure? We can swing by your place."

"No, it's fine. It's been a long day, and if I go home I'm going to want to shower and crawl in bed."

An image of Hermione Granger crawling into bed fascinated George. But there would be time enough for that later on. "Well then, let's go. I have reservations a La Bonne Voisine for half-seven."

Hermione stepped into a pair of ankle boots and shrugged on her suit jacket, quickly followed by a long purple cashmere coat and a pair of supple gloves. She took George's arm after locking up her office, and George Apparated them away to the London hotspot.

As expected, the establishment was packed. George gave his name to the maitre d' and after taking their coats, he led them to a back corner. The table was covered in white linen, sparkling glasses ready for wine, and comfortable leather chairs. George pulled out Hermione's chair for her, and the two sat down. There was a comfortable silence as the two perused the menu – Hermione had always loved French food, and spoke the language fluently. Their waitress came and George ordered a bottle of wine. As the waitress returned with the bottle, Hermione observed George over the top of her menu. He was relaxed in his elegant clothing, and with his lean frame could pull off a vest like no one she had ever known. This one was emerald green, paired with a deep plum shirt and grey slacks. While it should have been a riot to the eye, he pulled it together quite nicely. Since he and Fred had left Hogwarts all those years ago, he had never displayed anything but great taste in clothes. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had seen him show up anywhere but to work in ratty or messy clothes. He smiled easily, and even if there were more wrinkles at the corners of his eyes than had been five years ago, he was handsome. He also had large feet and long hands, and Hermione found herself wondering if other appendages were as equally proportionate.

She blushed at these thoughts, but convinced herself that they were only natural. I mean, it wouldn't have been the first time she'd thought of one of the Weasley men in such a fashion. Usually, though, it was sparked when Bill or Charlie could be seen outside working shirtless in the garden on those Sundays when Hermione showed up for dinner early. In any case, she would shortly be married to this man, and it was fitting that she would find him attractive, considering they would be sharing a bed in less than two months.

George finished with the wine tasting, and as the waitress poured glasses for the both of them, Hermione's attention was drawn back to the present. The pre-dinner conversation was light, careless, and as they delved into their salads, conversation turned to work. George was fascinated by Hermione's research project ("I could use a few of those cleaners around the shop.") and Hermione loved hearing about the experiments he was working on ("I can't even imagine what I would have done!"). By the time the main course arrived, the two had started on their second bottle of wine and were easier with each other than they ever had been before.

Before dessert, conversation turned to families, and George listened sympathetically when Hermione told him of her decision to sell her parents' home. Hermione was surprised at the problems Molly was having with all of her children getting married, and George's gentle tone as he discussed Ron's issues was enough to keep Hermione from getting angry.

They fell silent as they started in on the crème de menthe mousse, and Hermione could feel George's eyes on her. She looked up from under her lashes to find George staring very intently at her from across the table.

"Hermione," he murmured.

"Yes?" she half whispered.

"I'd really like to kiss you right now."

Hermione blushed, looked into his deep hazel eyes, and nodded slightly. Hardly waiting for an answer, George stood up and leaned part-way over the table. He hesitated for a moment before capturing Hermione's lips in his. A hot, searing pleasure swept through Hermione, and she returned the kiss with fervor. George's hand crept up to her cheek, caressing her slightly before he pulled away. He sat back down, not breaking eye contact, and smiled broadly. The two finished their desserts without hardly a word, and nothing much was said until they left, George ignoring Hermione's protests about covering the cheque.

George Apparated her to the steps of her flat and walked her to her front door with a hand at the small of her back. Once she had let herself in, he bent over the hand bearing his ring, kissed her soft skin, and then stood up, brushing another kiss on the corner of her mouth. He left, and Hermione stood stunned for a few moments before she managed to shut the door behind him. She giggled to herself, and started getting ready for bed. George Weasley, a gentleman. Who knew?


	8. Chapter 8

It was another week before she saw George, at the annual Weasley Christmas celebration. Although they had exchanged as many owls as they could find time for, they hadn't had time in their schedules to meet up again. On Christmas Eve, the Burrow was filled to bursting with dozens of red-headed children, their future and current spouses, grandchildren, and in-laws.

Hermione was running late to the celebration; she had been expected at the E4E Christmas celebration, and was kept there by grateful co-workers and supervisors for several hours. She opened the front door of the Burrow to raucous cries of goodwill and greetings, and was immediately swept into the arms of Mrs. Weasley, who had donned her best outfit for the occasion. Shrugging off her coat and handing it to the Weasley matriarch, Hermione exchanged kisses and hugs with dozens of people. Hermione circled the cramped house several times, greeting everyone, before she finally found George. He swept her into his arms and kissed her hard on the cheek. "Hello, love! How was the Christmas party?" He had clearly imbibed a bit of Arthur's famous Weasley punch, and his face was flushed.

"Wonderful. Wish you had been there, everyone was asking about who was lucky enough to marry the brilliant Hermione Granger."

George spun her around in his arms once or twice before letting her go, stepping back to look at her. He took in her long, sapphire-blue dress with a plunging neckline and bare back before pulling her close again. "Hermione, I really am lucky to have you. You're gorgeous, bloody brilliant, sexy as hell, and I am honored to share the next years of my life in your companionship." He was murmuring in her ear, his breath hot on her face. He pulled back slightly, just enough to capture her lips in his, and pulled her waist tight to his. They broke away moments later to catcalls from the assorted Weasley men, both of them blushing hard. George was patted roughly on the back by the nearest men, and Hermione, still red, was dragged into the deserted kitchen by Ginny.

"Mione! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what, Gin?" Hermione was still a little breathless.

"That you shagged my brother!"

Hermione's head snapped up. "I haven't, Ginny, I swear. We've only been on one date!"

"When has that ever stopped you, Granger?" The witches smiled at each other, and Hermione continued to protest.

"I really haven't. We're not in love or anything, but we get along great. I think we'll be just fine together for the next few months, at the least."

"No shite, Mione. You two have more chemistry than a Muggle science lab." Hermione laughed and got herself a glass of the Weasley punch.

"Now, seriously, Hermione, I have something to tell you." The redhead's eyes were glittering almost as much as the engagement ring Harry had bought her the week previous. "I'm pregnant."

Hermione nearly dropped her glass. "What?! Oh, Ginny, I'm so happy for you!" The two hugged tightly, laughing and jumping up and down in excitement, as if they weren't in their twenties but young teens again.

"I only just found out Monday."

"Have you told Harry yet?"

"Told me what?" Hermione and Ginny looked up to see Harry standing in the open kitchen door, an empty glass in his hand. Hermione left the two alone, pecking Harry on the cheek as she left to mingle. Moments later, loud laughter and whooping was heard from the kitchen, and Harry emerged carrying Ginny in his arms.

"Merlin, I'm going to be a father!" He spun Ginny around, who was looking flushed, and swept away into the den to share the news with the Weasley parents.

More cries were heard from there as Hermione was hugged hard by Fleur Weasley nee Delacour. The woman was looking as lavish as ever. Two children had only given her a more womanly figure, and Hermione was amiable to discuss the details of Fleur's child-bearing problems. Conversations all over the room could be heard about so-and-so having children, so-and-so already planning their divorce.

Hermione and George eventually found their way to each others' side again. George, being ever the gentleman, offered to fetch her more punch, and she readily agreed, flopping down on a settee next to a girl she hardly recognized.

"You're Hermione Granger, right?"

Hermione nodded, casting her eyes to the girl's pale, mousy features. She reminded Hermione of herself in school.

"I'm Victoria, Vicky."

"So you're Vicky! I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to meet earlier at the dinner."

"I left pretty early," Vicky said. "Ron and I don't get on that great yet."

"Not everyone is going to be lucky with this law, I'm afraid," Hermione said sympathetically.

"You and Ron's brother seem to be doing well."

"Well, I've known George since I was eleven," Hermione reasoned. "It was a little awkward at first, still can be. He's been like a brother to me, all the Weasleys have been like my family."

"Even Ron?"

"For a while, he was my best friend. But some friendships just don't make good relationships, and now we're better off not talking."

"You're all he ever talks about, you know. I think he loves you." Vicky confided. "He compares me to you at every turn. We've been out together three or four times, and he only ever talks about you, and Harry. He's angry." She blushed, as if she'd said too much.

"I know how Ron gets when he's angry," Hermione said, patting the younger girl's arm. "But he'll cool down eventually, he always does. Have you set any plans for your wedding, love?"

They talked of lighter things for a couple of minutes before George reappeared, holding two glasses of punch and a slightly off expression.

"Mione? I'd love to talk to you in the kitchen."

Hermione bid a sad Vicky farewell and took George's proffered arm. Once in the kitchen, George helped Hermione hop up onto the counter, and looked at her with distressed eyes.

"Mione, I've got some bad news for you. Ron's apparently been at the Ministry for the past three days, trying to get them to switch our partners. He's doing everything he can to whisk you away."

"But they can't let that happen! What about you, and Vicky?"

"That's the thing, Ron's apparently convinced half the board that I'm going along with this, that he and I are just going to switch spouses."

"They can't be that daft, can they?"

"Ron's a war hero, he's good at talking himself up."

"Well, what can we do?"

"Our best chance at keeping you away from him, the bloody git, is to put on a good show at the Ministry Ball tomorrow night. I've got an invitation I was planning to ignore, but I think it's best if we go do some damage control, unless you'd like to spend the next five years in terror, raising the git's children."

Hermione was overwhelmed by how quickly this had all taken place. Only two weeks ago, she was a single woman. And now, she was protecting her arranged marriage from a slighted ex-boyfriend. "Sure," she said finally. "Let's go. I've got their invite laying around my house somewhere. I can't believe the Ministry is this stupid1 Well, okay," she corrected. "I can. But I thought they weren't entertaining revisions to the matches?"

"Ron is Ron. I'm sure he wheedled and sweet-talked and played the hero card as best he could."

Hermione nodded in agreement, looked down at George, who stood in front of her, and then lowered her face to his. His shock at her initiating a kiss quickly wore off, and he pulled her face tightly to him, one hand on the back of her neck and the other at her waist.

A small cough broke the silence, and the two, embarrassed, turned to see Bill Weasley. "Don't mind me, just getting more punch. Carry on, you two."

Once Bill left, George and Hermione laughed. He helped her off the counter, steadying her in her heels, and then drew her in for one more kiss. Soft and sweet, the kiss spoke volumes of their camaraderie and hopes for the future.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning dawned cold and clear. Snow was everywhere, piled on the streets and gathered in the corners of Hermione's windows. London, usually grey and drab, was alive with white, dazzling snow, and laughter and mirth could be heard from every corner. Hermione's apartment was undecorated, bland. Since Ginny had moved out, she had no one to celebrate Christmas with at her own place.

Yawning, wrapped in a thin cotton robe, Hermione made coffee, nibbled on some toast, and sat down in the library – converted from Ginny's old bedroom. She read for most of the morning, only stirring when she heard the door buzzer go off. She opened the door to find George, as dressed down as she had ever seen him in tight jeans and a thick sweater.

"Happy Christmas, love," he said, pecking her cheek as he slipped inside. Hermione smiled and returned the greeting. George's eyes on her body made Hermione acutely aware of the fact that she wore only a skimpy nightdress under the short robe. Wrapping the fabric tighter around her, Hermione led George to the kitchen and poured him some coffee.

"What brings you here this morning, George?"

Drinking his coffee, George gestured to the large box next to the front door. Casting a disbelieving look at it, Hermione went to fetch it. It was wrapped in colourful paper, tied with an elaborate bow.

"George, you shouldn't have."

"But I did anyway. I want you to wear it tonight. No buts. Don't open it until later."

Hermione was flushed, but nodded. "I feel awful, George. I didn't think to get you anything."

George shook his head. "I wouldn't have dreamed of accepting anything from you, Hermione. It's not as if we're madly in love. We have plenty of time for all that nonsense. I just wanted you to have this – I knew you weren't planning on going to the ball, so I picked you up a dress for it. Simple as that."

"Well, thank you. Can I at least offer you breakfast? I'm no Molly Weasley, but I make great waffles."

George assented, and Hermione set about the kitchen. In no time they were drenching tall stacks of waffles with butter and blueberry syrup, and the kitchen was silent except for their chewing.

"What are your plans for the morning, Mione?"

"I hadn't anything planned until tonight."

"Care to join me?"

"What are you doing?"

"Just put on some warm clothes. Jeans, the like. Nothing you wouldn't mind getting dirty."

Hermione cast a curious eye at the ravishing Mr. Weasley and then scurried off to dress. She was pulling a sweater over her head when she re-entered the kitchen, and George nodded his approval. He cleaned the dishes with a wave of his wand, tucked said wand away, and then led her to the door, pulling on his coat. Hermione followed suit, and soon the two were making fresh footprints in the snow outside Hermione's building, huddled close together for warmth.

George led her several blocks away, onto the Tube, and finally leading her in the back door of an old church. George led her to the side and into an old recreation room, where dozens of volunteers in aprons and gloves were rushing around, cooking Christmas dinner for the homeless youth that called the basement of this church home. Hermione beamed at George, kissed him on the cheek, and was promptly set to work by a rounded woman in a plaid apron. George was taken one way, Hermione another, and they didn't see each other again till almost three in the afternoon, when they had finished their tasks and more. Hermione peeled so many potatoes she never wanted to see one again, and George had sliced his finger open on something. Maggie, the rounded woman who had taken Hermione to task, pressed two boxed lunches in their hands, despite their protests. They hugged the woman, promising to return, and set off for home. On the Tube, they gave the boxed lunches to an elderly man wrapped in rags, and George also gifted the man his gloves. The homeless man's own hands had been blue with cold.

Once out of the Tube, Hermione stopped George.

"You're such a thoughtful man, George. I know it's only been two weeks, but I feel like we're going to do just fine in this together."

George beamed at her, stopping to kiss her cold, reddened nose.

"I agree, Mione. But, as with everyone, I have my rough patches. Don't forget that I'm only human, no matter how God-like my appearance." The twinkle in his eye made Hermione laugh, and she took George's gloveless hands in her own.

"As long as you don't snore, I think I'll be just fine."


	10. Chapter 10

George left her at her door, promising to meet her outside the venue at eight that evening. Hermione took a long shower, washing the sweat from the day away from her body, and allowed herself a few moments to imagine what her love life would be like in just a few short weeks. She had seen George shirtless when they were in school, and though his overall figure was much the same as she remembered, she couldn't help but blush to herself as she imagined tracing the contours of muscles she suspected lay beneath his tailored suits.

Several long minutes later, Hermione emerged, skin flushed pink from the heat of the spray and her own thoughts. Drying off, she padded naked into her bedroom, where she had placed the box from George on her dressing table. She was stunned silent for a moment, gasping when she finally got the nerve to pull the dress from the box.

It was long, deep black silk covered in hundreds of tiny crystals from the bodice to the hips. The back was low, almost nonexistent, and the bodice would be tight. The silk flowed in delicate folds from the hips, barely supported by a layer of crinoline. In the box beneath the dress lay two black gloves which would go up to and over her elbows.

Hermione sat at her dressing table, just feeling the slight rasp of silk on her skin and the scratch of the crystals. As the fabric spilled out over her lap, Hermione could see the deep crimson embroidery on the bodice – delicate roses studded with the crystals. It was breathtaking.

Two hours later at half seven, Hermione's hair was swept to the side, cascading in soft curls over her shoulder. She was in black lace panties and garter belt, drawing stockings up her legs. They ended high on her thighs, and the sheer black material moulded to her legs perfectly. She had on minimal makeup, just some nude lipstick, grey eyeshadow, and thick black mascara.

It was in the moment Hermione contemplated getting into the dazzling dress that she thanked all the gods that she was a witch. Levitating the dress, Hermione lowered it over her head. A bit of adjusting and a few well-worded sticking spells had Hermione covered in the silk. It hugged her breasts, and the partial boning in the front gave her luxurious cleavage. Forgoing a necklace, Hermione slipped small diamond earrings in, and drew the long gloves up over her arms. She slipped her engagement ring on over the glove, coupled with her mother's diamond bracelet, and Hermione looked up into the mirror for the first time.

A far cry from the bookworm she had been six – hell, even two – years ago, this Hermione Granger seemed an apparition. And as she slipped into her dark crimson pumps, Hermione felt a giddy sense of freedom and self-consciousness. This Hermione never hid beneath lumpy jumpers and long skirts. This Hermione Granger was powerful, the leading researcher in a prominent company. This Hermione looked sexy, seductive, and not a bit out of place in the silk and glitter. And even though this Hermione Granger was to be married soon, against her will, she was still in control of herself. After checking over herself one last time, Hermione looked at the clock. With minutes to spare, She gathered her clutch and wrap, glanced at her hair one last time, and Apparated away to the Ministry Ball.

She landed by the front gates of the Greengrass Estate outside of London. The Greengrasses, a prominent pureblood family, had donated their property for the Christmas gala every year since the early 1900s, and this year was no different. Hermione was alone by the gates for only a minute before someone Apparated behind her. A gasp, and Hermione turned around to see the source. George, resplendent in a black tuxedo complete with a top hat, was rooted to the spot, transfixed by Hermione. Shaking his head, his red curls bouncing, he finally walked up to the witch. Forgoing all niceties, he pulled her hard into his arms and kissed her deeply.

Hermione moaned softly as his lips played against hers, and whimpered when he pulled away.

"You look positively ravishing, Ms. Granger."

"Not so bad there yourself, Mr. Weasley. Shall we?" Hermione took George's proffered arm and he escorted her to a line of carriages just inside the gates. They endured a windy but comfortable ride to the Greengrass manor, and disembarked on a marble path. They were ushered in, their invitations scrutinized, and their coats collected before Hermione and George found themselves in a vast ballroom.

Soft golden light filled the chamber, and hundreds of icicles dazzled on the walls and ceiling. Large evergreens, decorated with all manner of trivialities, thrust outward from every corner. The room was packed, fancy dresses and formal robes popping out from every-which-way and the sound of laughter and the click of high heels echoing around them. Always one for quiet libraries and private functions, Hermione was a bit stunned. George took her gloved hand gently in his, entwining their fingers and kissing her jaw softly, lingeringly. He led the overwhelmed Hermione into the throngs, quickly making the rounds. The Minister, his Cabinet, the Malfoys (poor Draco, how upset he looked, and how his eyes traveled over her silky form!), the Greengrasses themselves, a few Aurors, some proprietors George knew from Diagon Alley, and Harry and Ginny.

As always, Ginny looked fabulous. Her sapphire blue dress complimented her hair fabulously, and the cut was modest enough to maintain formality, but a slit that showed when she moved bordered on scandalous. She was positively glowing, and looked more pulled together and sophisticated than Hermione had ever seen her. Altogether, she and Harry made a lovely, tasteful picture, and Hermione was just happy to see them. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, champagne was distributed, and Ginny and Hermione left the boys to talk Quidditch.

They circled the room, Ginny exclaiming over Hermione's outfit.

"He Flood me, asking for your size, but I had no idea he'd come up with something like this!"

Hermione grinned. "Your brother has already proven he has good taste." She flashed the engagement ring, and the two giggled.

Before long, they were joined by others. Pansy Parkinson offered stiff greetings, and the girls were gossiping about weddings with Susan Bones and her parents when Rita Skeeter blew in out of nowhere, pulling Hermione aside before the latter even realized what happened.

"Ms. Granger, is it true you and Ron Weasley are still involved in an affair, and you set to marry his brother?"

Hermione groaned loudly. "Skeeter, I really don't want to talk to you right now."

"But Ms. Granger, the world is itching to know – why can't you settle for just one Weasley?"

"Rita, I – "

"And is it true you're also involved with Maxwell Pynte, the CEO and founder of Elixers 4 Everyone?"

"What? You're kidding."

"And what about rumors of you – "

"Skeeter!" Hermione cried, finally gaining the witch's attention. "Fine, I'll answer your questions. But if you print anything, and I mean anything, but what I say, there will be hell to pay. Don't forget about my information."

Rita Skeeter sniffed haughtily, but assented.

"Now, what is this nonsense about Ron?" Hermione sighed.

"Rumor has it that you and Ron Weasley are still involved in a deeply intimate," Rita coughed coyly, "relationship, even though the Ministry has paired you with his brother, the infamous and handsome Weasley Wizarding Wheezes owner George Weasley."

"First of all, yes, George and I are set to be married. Yes, we are perfectly happy with the pairing. No, we did not have a prior relationship, we were just family friends. As for Ron, he and I have not been involved with each other for a long time, and there will never be anything more to that relationship. He is to be my brother-in-law, and that is as far as the relationship will extend. I understand that he is rather upset about it, but I am happy to be marrying George, and that is not going to change."

"And what about you and Mr. Pynte?"

"Max? He's my boss. He appointed me to the research project I am currently spearheading for Elixers 4 Everyone. There is nothing but an absolutely professional relationship there, and there never will be. I understand that he has been married for over twenty years, and happily so. I am simply his employee."

"Witch Weekly has photographs of you and Mr. Pynte looking cozy in a coffee shoppe in Diagon Alley just last week."

"And I'm sure your photographers would like to think there is something sinister afoot, but I assure you, our relationship is strictly professional. We often have lunch meetings outside of the office. As you can imagine, a research facility can get a bit overwhelming."

"And the rumors about you leading on Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune and current acting Chairman on the board of Malfoy Enterprises?"

"I don't know where you get your information, Skeeter, but there is nothing between Draco and myself. I see him occasionally, as we have mutual acquaintances, and though he did petition for me, there is nothing between he and I."

"Viktor Krum is in town for the World Cup semifinals, are you planning to see him?"

Hermione laughed. "Skeeter, Viktor and I have hardly spoken in years. We had a great friendship for a while, but we have our own lives to live. While it would be great to catch up with him, I'm not having an affair with him, either. And I'm not answering any more questions," Hermione added firmly as Rita's mouth opened once more. "We're through here, go find someone else to bug."

Skeeter's eyes narrowed at the dig, but she flounced off, content with her information for the moment.

Ginny appeared, breathless, moments later, George in tow.

"Is she gone?"

Hermione nodded, and they both heaved a sigh of relief.

"Well, so much for getting a kiss on the front page of tomorrow's Prophet," George teased, pulling Hermione into him. "Come on, sugar. Let's dance."

The two danced several waltzes and a tango before retiring, Hermione wanting to rest her feet. It didn't matter how often or for how long she wore heels, dancing always made her feet ache. George went to fetch some champagne and nibblies, and Hermione perched herself on a tall stool at the cocktail tables. Before long, she was approached by someone she didn't know, a matronly woman of about fifty, her sleek silvery hair pulled back with diamond combs.

"Are you Hermione Granger?"

"I am."

"Ms. Granger, my name is Penelope Plume, and I am the director of Grimbles Resource Allocation. Have you heard of us?" The woman produced a small card and handed it to her.

"I'm afraid I have not, Ms. Plume."

"Please, call me Penelope. Grimbles is a recruitment firm. Some would call us head-hunters. In any case, one of my clients is particularly interested in you."

"In me? May I ask who this client is?"

"I was hesitant to approach you about this project because of your connections with Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, but I am representing Dinmore Limited, the firm behind many of Zonko's products and other novelty items."

"What does Dinmore want with me?"

"To be frank, Ms. Granger, they want you to head their marketing department."

"You're joking?"

"I'm afraid that's Dinmore's prerogative, not mine, Ms. Granger."

"Please, call me Hermione. And I apologize. I just can't see that Dinmore could have sent you to talk with me. It's not exactly a secret that I am intimately connected with all of the Weasleys, including George. How could they think I'd want to work for them, my future husband's competition?"

"I tried to make that point as well, my dear. But, they insisted. I am inviting you to a meeting with them in mid-January. They would really appreciate your communicating with them on the matter. I'm afraid they're not a company that takes 'no' for an answer." Penelope handed Hermione a small card, and then shook her hand.

As the older woman whisked away, Hermione glanced at the information. Tucking the card into her bag, she stood up. She suddenly wanted a drink.

George appeared not ten seconds later, two flutes of champagne in hand and a small plate of finger food balanced on top. Hermione drank the champagne quickly, and then led George out onto the dance floor once again. They danced closely, and Hermione filled him in on the details of her latest encounter. They laughed a bit, but in seriousness, it was agreed that Hermione go to the meeting, if for no other reason than to refuse in person.

They danced until the clock chimed midnight, and then set about getting their things together. Hermione's feet were killing her, and all she wanted to do was prop herself up with a good book. Dozens of farewells were fielded, and then Hermione and George left.

As the two were headed to the Apparition point, conversation was warm.

"I had a wonderful time tonight, Mione."

"Me too, George. It was much better than I thought it would be, even with all the unwelcome interruptions."

"Would you like to come over for a nightcap?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, a thousand scenarios running through her head, and then answered in the affirmative. George whisked them away to his property in Diagon Alley.

They appeared outside Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and George led her around back and up a beautiful wrought-iron spiral staircase. They emerged on a small patio, where the back door to George's flat was tightly locked. George fumbled with keys and then led Hermione into the kitchen.


	11. Author Note

Author Note:

The following chapters will be more explicit than the previous. There will be scenes of a sexual nature, and if you are under the age of consent in your location, please refrain from reading.

Also, thank you to all the readers who have taken time to review and comment on the story thus far. They make me smile.

Thanks,

sk987


	12. Chapter 11

Hermione stepped into the stone-tiled kitchen and sighed at the immediate warmth. George set a fire in the kitchen flue, and then puttered around the kitchen, opening cabinets. He pulled two snifters out of a high cabinet and then bent to retrieve a bottle of cognac from a dark, oaken-lined cabinet. Casting a warming charm on the glasses, George dribbled a fair amount of cognac into each glass. Hermione accepted hers gratefully, and they made their way into George's sitting room. They sat close to one another on the plush sofa, and Hermione slid off her heels, tucking her legs beneath her.

After chatting for some time about nothing, George fell silent. He was staring off into space, his lips set in a hard expression. Hermione fell silent as well, but after a few moments, she dared to murmur, "I know it's hard without him, George."

George sighed. "Thanks, Hermione, but I don't think you know exactly what it's like."

"No, I don't. But my parents are dead, remember? I know what it feels like to lose someone close to you." George glanced at her as she said this. Hermione realized belatedly her words had come out slightly sharper than she had intended.

"I hadn't forgotten that, Mione," George mumbled. "It's just hard for me to acknowledge that anyone can feel my pain. Fred and I shared our entire lives together, up until that moment. I mean, we had some things to ourselves, like relationships, some hobbies, but for the most part we did everything else together. We knew things about each other no one else could. Like, how I'm afraid of dogs. Only Fred knew that. Did you know he was great at drawing? Like, phenomenal."

"I think every family is like that, George. I never had a sibling, but Harry is the closest thing I've ever had to a brother. We aren't as close as of late, but we used to be. I could always tell when he'd been having nightmares, or when he took a liking to some girl. I knew how much he secretly hated my cat, even though he pretended to like him. And I knew how much his parents' deaths really affected him, even though he never explicitly talked about it. And," she giggled suddenly, "I think I'm the only one he told the first time he ever had sex with Ginny." George turned suddenly red and Hermione continued. "So yes, I may not know exactly how it feels to have a twin, or even a biological sibling, but I do know what it's like to have a brother, and to share things with them no one else knows."

"I'm going to ignore that comment about my baby sister," growled George. Hermione swatted him.

"Get over it, Georgie. She's pregnant, not to mention getting married in a week. Shite!" Groaning, Hermione flopped backward onto the couch. "I almost forgot about the wedding. I still have to go get my bloody dress from the shoppe and the damned shoes and plan the bloody hen night. Not to mention write my speech an -" George cut her off with a kiss, a quick peck designed to shut her up.

"Mione, calm down. I don't want to think about my little sister getting married right now. I'd rather talk about our marriage." He smirked devilishly, leaning over her and propping himself just inches above her face. "Or, if you prefer, we can forget the talking and chalk up a little practice."

"George Weasley, as delightfully handsome as you are, it's going to take more that that to get into my knickers." Hermione grinned, arching up to kiss him tenderly before scooting out from underneath him as delicately as her dress would allow. "In any case, it took so much effort to get into this beautiful dress, I wouldn't want to ruin it by letting you ravish me just yet."

George just shook his head. "Well," he murmured, dropping his head to nuzzle her throat "do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"Nothing of great importance."

"Then stay the night."

Hermione was silent for long moments, considering. She could feel George grow still above her, sensing her indecision.

"You don't have to stay, Mione. I don't mean to push you into anything. I wasn't thinking." He pushed himself off of her. "We haven't even talked about that."

"George."

"I don't even know if you're a virgin, not that it mat-"

"George!" He finally looked up at her. "George, it's alright. I would love to stay here with you. I'm not promising to shag you, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other."

George looked relieved, and nodded fervently. He started to speak, but Hermione stopped him. "Now, I'm not a virgin, George, and I know my way around a man. If the stories I heard in the common room were any indication, I don't have anything to worry about with you, either. But I also don't want to rush into this tonight. Let's just see where it goes and if it happens, it happens. Got it?"

"Crystal clear, Hermione."

"Good." She stood up and turned her back to him. "Now, you can start by getting me out of this magnificent dress, Mr. Weasley."

George jumped up immediately and moved behind her. He drew her into his arms, moulding her body into his. Hermione let herself melt into his chest, her eyes fluttering closed, and George dragged his lips across her ear, inhaling the scent of her skin. Inch by tortuous inch, he lowered the zip on the gown, until it hung loosely from her frame. Hermione twister her hips, and the dress lay in a heap of silk and glittering crystals at her feet. She stepped out from it carefully, drawing George back into her, as his hands tentatively explored her curvaceous figure. His fingertips skimmed across her hips, his nails dragged along her ribcage, and his palm pressed lightly into the curve of her lower back made her shiver, drawing moans from both of them.

Hermione's breath was light and ragged against his ear as George swirled his tongue around the pulse in her throat. When he nipped at the smooth skin where her neck and shoulder met, Hermione whimpered and her knees gave out slightly. George took advantage of this to scoop her into his arms, her breathless laugh like music to his ears as he whisked her away into his bedroom.

Once tumbled on George's magnificent bed, Hermione luxuriated in the soft down of the duvet. George stood above her, clearly appreciating the view of Hermione clad in only stockings, panties, and garter belt. He groaned as he launched himself at her, crashing their lips together, teeth nipping and his hands coming up to cup her breasts for the first time. Hermione cried out against George's insistent mouth, trembling as he expertly rolled and tweaked her taut nipples.

"You're so -" George started, dragging his lips down the column of her neck, "bloody," he bit her sharply, and Hermione squeaked out a hiss of pleasure, "sexy," he finished, sucking hard on the sensitive skin covering her delicate collarbones. His hands slipped down to her waist, spanning the tiny frame and then grazing over the curvy hips. He spent agonizing minutes working his way down to her chest, and when his hot, searching mouth came in contact with her over-sensitized nipples, Hermione bucked against George, eliciting a drawn out groan that Hermione could feel in her very bones.

George suckled on her breasts as he fumbled with his belt, desperate to relieve some of the pressure on his aching member. Hermione's delicate hand slipped inside in a moment, and as her hands, soft and gentle, closed around his girth, George could scarcely contain himself from coming just then. Together, they pushed his slacks down just enough to free his length, and George removed his shirt. He got momentarily hung up in the sleeves as Hermione pumped her hand experimentally on his shaft, his mind going utterly blank. Once free, he fell on top of her, barely holding himself above her, his achingly hard member and her hand pinned between their bodies.

"I know th-this sounds bad, Mione," George stuttered, hardly able to get the words out as she moved her hand again, "but it's been a very l-long time. If you keep doing that, I won't make it much longer." He shuddered as she brushed her thumb over his weeping eye, smearing the silken liquid around his over-sensitized head. She nodded in acknowledgment, and slowly withdrew her hand. George whimpered at the loss of contact, but kissed her hard, then slowly moved down her body.

His tongue and teeth made her squirm as he spent long minutes working his way toward her lace-covered mound. He slowly slid her panties down her lean legs, tossing them across the room and groaning loudly at the sight of his goal. Her pubic hair was scant and neatly trimmed, and as he settled between her welcoming thighs, the scent of her musk was enough to make him tremble. Hermione, too, was shaking as she anticipated that first brush of his tongue, and when it finally came, she moaned and shuddered.

It felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, when George's fingers and tongue finally pushed her over the point of no return. She cried out his name, her hips bucking as she gasped and her nails clawing at the duvet. Even as her head and body were still trembling, George was back up her body, his damp face in her neck and his hand wrapping hers around his steely member. She had enough presence of mind to stroke, and within moments, George was jerking on top of her, his hot ejaculate spreading over her breasts and stomach. They collapsed into each other, sweaty and sticky with the fruits of their orgasms.

It was many minutes before either of them had enough energy to clean up, and afterward, Hermione fell asleep with her head on George's chest.


	13. Chapter 12

It was nearly eleven when Hermione awoke. It took her several moments to remember where she was, but once she did, she rolled over, expecting to see George. The other side of the bed was empty, and Hermione felt momentarily crestfallen. However, she soon heard small sounds from the kitchen, and sat up. It took her a few moments to get out of the garter and stockings from the previous evening, but once she was free, she opened up the top drawer of George's dresser. She pulled out a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, and, donning them, padded silently into the hall.

She found George in the kitchen in a rumpled jumper and a pair of jeans. He sat at the breakfast table with a steaming mug of coffee, surrounded by paper. Leaning up against the doorjamb, as yet unnoticed, Hermione took a moment to observe him. His hair was wild, no doubt from their night, but his frame was relaxed, despite the intense look of concentration on his face that drew Hermione's attention to his eyes, where the beginnings of wrinkles were forming. George had aged quite a bit, there was no denying it. He was muttering to himself as he leafed through a legal-looking document, and then tossed it across the table. He rubbed his eyes wearily, and then spotted Hermione. His face broke immediately into a wide grin, and he bounded up to take her in his arms.

"You were squinting," she noted, pecking him on the lips. "I think you need glasses."

George grumbled good-naturedly before changing the subject. "I was coming in to wake you soon. Would you like some coffee? I have fruit, too."

"Coffee would be lovely. Have you eaten already?"

"I had a quick bite, I've already had two meetings this morning," George remarked. "But you know us Weasley men, we could always eat more."

"Two meetings? It's not even noon!"

"Such is owning your own business. You sneak them in when you can. I had a meeting with a private investor at eight down in the store, and then a Floo conference with the bank that's closing the deal on the new property at half nine."

"I'm surprised you let me sleep in this late. I could have gotten out of your hair earlier," Hermione said, peeling a banana and taking a small bite. George's mouth twitched as he watcher her wrap her lips around the fruit, and he shook his head.

"It was fine. I had both meetings down in my office, and I left you a note in case you woke up." George pulled Hermione onto his lap and took the banana from her hand. "But you simply must stop eating that bloody banana. It's too much for a man to take."

Hermione giggled and made a big show of bringing George's hand up to her mouth to take a sensual bite from the fruit.

"I'm so sorry, George. I just love bananas." She licked her lips seductively, and George shuddered. Hermione giggled again, and stood up. "Do you have any more meetings today?"

George shook his head. "No, I canceled my others for the day. I won't have another one till the new year. But I have some work to do. The shoppe is closed today for Boxing Day, but I have orders to get ready, a couple of contracts to go through, and inventory to do before the new year."

"Do you need some help today?" Hermione inquired, honestly interested in helping if she could. "I've got the next few days off work. Our vacations run through January second. I was going to do a little research today, but if you need it, I can help with inventory or something."

"You don't have other plans today?"

"I usually spend Boxing Day with Harry and Ron, but I don't think that will be happening this year," Hermione remarked with feigned indifference. "So I'm all yours. I will just need to pop by my place for clothes and a shower."

"Brilliant. Come back by whenever you're done. I'll be downstairs, just knock on the front door." He kissed her on the nose. "Also, I've sent your dress to the cleaners and your underthings are on the chair in my bedroom."

"I think I'll just wear this home, if that's alright with you." George nodded, and after a sweet farewell, Hermione Flooed home.

Around half one, Hermione returned to Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. She knocked on the glass of the front door and cupped her hands around her face to peer inside. George was on a ladder along the far wall, and as Hermione knocked again, he started down slowly.

Opening the door, George greeted her with a quick peck on the lips, and held the door wide for her to enter. Hermione did so, ducking out of habit – in this store, it wasn't so uncommon to get hit with some ridiculous trick upon crossing the threshold. George grinned his Weasley grin, and led her back to where he had been working.

"Welcome to inventory day," George intoned with a wry laugh. "Once a month we – I mean, I – inventory everything sold up front on the shelves. But for the end of the year and my expense report, I have to inventory all the bits and bobs – ingredients, packaging, everything. It's a nightmare."

"Where do you want me to start?"

George handed Hermione a quill and a long sheaf of parchment, upon which was a long, long list written in George's scrawling handwriting. "With this, love. I've already inventoried everything that moves, lucky you. It's just the shelves now. With you here, we can be done by dinner time."

"Earlier, if I have anything to say about it." Hermione grimaced, determined, as she looked at the tall shelves. She hated heights.

Two hours later, Hermione was dusty and her hands splattered with ink. George was in a similar state of disarray, and when they stopped to take a much-needed break, they had a good laugh over their appearances. George was very gently unwinding a Shimmering Silver Salt Drop from Hermione's curls ("The box just _exploded_!") when Hermione brought up what had happened at the ball.

"George, what do you know about Dinmore Limited?"

Frowning, George thought for a moment. "Not too much, honestly, which surprises me since they're my biggest competition. They're a quiet firm, mostly research and development, I gather, but they also have manufacturing networks. They're pretty small scale, I think. They supply to Zonko's and a couple of places across the UK, but aside from that, I know next to nothing." He mused for a minute, still untangling the sweet from Hermione's hair. "I do know that the chief executive is a woman, she's been running the company for the last four years or so. By the time F-Fred and I had any contact with Dinmore, we were already up and running here. I'm fairly certain he was asked to consult on a major project that they then wanted to market to us, but we liked making our own things."

"Do you outsource any of your products?"

"We deal with some Muggle distributors for our magic and card tricks, and we work with a breeder to get the Pygmy Puffs, but that's it right now. When we first started up, we were selling some of Sleekeazy's women's products for a little while, just to fill the shelves. We also had a deal with Honeydukes to sell some of their sweets, but we don't really do that anymore, either. We'll feature a new sweet on occasion, but we haven't had a big deal with them in five years or so."

They fell silent, Hermione contemplating Dinmore and George contemplating business.

"How many employees do you have, George?"

"Currently, six store clerks in addition to myself, and two blokes that help with the packing during our manufacturing times. We make about three months' worth of products at a time, because the shelf life of some of our products, like the Snackboxes, is only about a nine months before the charms start to deteriorate and the effects become less predictable. Some of the products in our WonderWitch line only have a two month shelf life, so we make them pretty regularly. And when we aren't in a big manufacturing boom, I whip up small batches of whatever we need in my workshop downstairs."

"And you mentioned opening up another location?"

"Yep. I'm closing on a deal with Zonko's right now. The owner is getting on in years, and his family isn't interested in continuing the business. I've struck a deal with them to gain control of the property and their trademark. Zonko's is really well known, and some of their products are hard to duplicate, so I've bought the rights to those products." George looked thoughtful. "You know, Hermione, that might be why Dinmore is coming to you. Other than you being brilliant, of course. My takeover of Zonko's is pushing them out of that market, because I don't work with them. I bet they think getting you on board will be their ticket back."

"That's a little obvious, isn't it? It seems a bit desperate." Hermione remained unconvinced.

"Maybe, but Dinmore is about to lose their corner on Hogwarts. They supply probably half of Zonko's products, including the Fanged Frisbees and Dungbombs. Some of those would be desirable for me to sell, but I make similar products that are, if I do say so myself, much more entertaining. Who wouldn't want to use a Portable Swamp instead of a Dungbomb? And Filibuster's is nothing compared to my Whiz-bang fireworks."

"I'm surprised Gambol and Japes is still making those."

"They aren't. Gambol was killed in the war, and they closed down for good. I think they sold the rights to some of their more popular products. I think the bookshop next door took over the space."

Hermione mused in silence, staring at George. His red curls were askew, and his shirt even more rumpled than earlier. Hermione decided she still found him attractive, if not more so, despite his disheveled appearance.

George was thinking along the same lines. He took in her soulful brown eyes, and that mess of curls she called hair. His eyes traveled down her slender neck to where her jumper was pulled taut over her chest, and down to her jean-clad legs, crossed, and tipped with petite trainers.

"You really are beautiful, Hermione."

She blushed a pretty pink, and tried in vain to smooth back her hair, smearing ink along her jaw in the process. George smirked, and Hermione blushed harder. With his thumb, George wiped the ink smudge from her face, but his hand lingered. With a sudden ferocity, George pulled Hermione into him, kissing her hard and fully on the shapely lips that had been taunting him throughout their conversation.

They embraced for long moments, until finally they separated for air, each of them feeling a little flushed. Hermione smiled shyly, and with few words, they got back to work.


	14. Chapter 13

New Year's Eve found Hermione at Grimmauld Place, in a short, fluttery, violet dress and strappy red heels. Harry and Ginny were having a small get-together – which for them, meant nearly thirty people – to ring in the new year. Nearly everyone in Hermione's year at Hogwarts was there, and Hermione enjoyed the opportunity to catch up with everyone. The Marriage Resolution had worked out for most of the people in attendance, and there were very few who were to marry someone they didn't already know. After a few hours of mingling and drinking, Hermione was pulled aside by Ginny, and the two went upstairs.

Slightly tipsy, Hermione took the stairs carefully, and when Ginny shut the door to her private office, Hermione gratefully sat down on the plush couch.

"I need to talk to you."

"What's up, Gin?"

"I'm really, really nervous about the wedding." Hermione had almost forgotten Ginny was to be married in two days time.

"Ginny, it's going to be lovely. We'll have a fun hen night tomorrow, and then you'll stay at my place, and we'll paint our nails and gossip, and then you will walk down that aisle and see Harry and all your worries will fly out the window."

"You don't think it's a bad idea to do it so soon? I mean, we still have a few months."

"Ginny, I don't see the problem. You and Harry have been in love for ages and he wants to marry you, whether it's tomorrow or in ten years. It's going to be a struggle, but you already were practically joined at the hip. You're in a big enough house that if you need some time alone, you can find it, and you're always welcome at my place. That baby of yours is going to grow up in a wonderful family, regardless of how rough you and Harry may find married life at first. Ups and downs are bound to happen, but I think your history with Harry speaks for itself. You'll always come back up. Anyway, if you waited any longer, you'd be showing and wouldn't be able to fit that preggers body of yours in the gorgeous dress I'm hiding in my closet."

Ginny giggled and hugged Hermione hard, whispering quiet thanks in her ear.

"So, what do you have planned for my hen night?"

"Nothing major, since you can no longer drink. Dinner at McCoul's, some dancing, drinks for everyone else, and a cake. I didn't think it would do to deliver you to Harry dead on your feet."

"No, probably not."

"Come over to my place around six, then."

The two women linked arms and made their way back downstairs, where Hermione was immediately pulled into a group hug by most of the Weasley brothers. The party had grown in the minutes spent upstairs, and now George and his friends, Percy and his fiance's friends, and dozens of people Hermione didn't know crowded the main floor of Grimmauld Place. Hermione snagged a glass of champagne and managed to find George in the mess with only minutes to spare before the clock struck midnight. George kissed her sweetly, wrapped an arm around her waist, and continued his conversation with Oliver Wood and Lee Jordan.

Hermione couldn't hear the countdown, but she heard the cries and whoops of celebration as the people around her rang in the new year. George's fireworks exploded around the room, and glittering confetti fell from some of them, coating the party-goers and getting stuck in Hermione's hair. George pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "Here's to us, Mione," and then kissed her, hard. Her arms wound around his neck as he tipped her backwards with the force of his passion. They stayed at way for long moments, until Lee Jordan's cat-calls broke them away from each other.

They mingled for a little while longer, until the party started to die out. Saying goodbye to family and friends, Hermione invited George back to her flat for a cup of tea.

They barely made it in the door before Hermione found herself pressed against it, George kissing her hard. His hands were on her hips, pressing her into the wood, and she wound her fingers into his curls.

"Hermione," he whispered in between kisses. "Want you. You, this dress, I can hardly handle it."

Hermione gasped as he started trailing his lips down the side of her neck. She craned her neck back and moaned throatily as his teeth closed on the sensitive flesh.

"Yes, George, yes." That was all the answer he needed. He hefted her into his arms, his hands holding on to her bum as her heeled feet left the ground. She squeaked in protest, but she was cut off by George's lips, his teeth tugging on her lip. She locked her ankles behind his hips, groaning as he pushed her short dress up to reveal her creamy thighs and the lace of her knickers. He grasped her thighs like a life raft, leaving nail marks, and Hermione could clearly feel his arousal pressed up against her own.

With one hand, George pinned Hermione's wrists above her head, ravaging her neck with his lips again. His other hand was beneath the skirt of her dress, stroking the soft skin on the back of her thighs.

"George, now," Hermione moaned as George ground his hips into hers.

"No, not here," he gasped out. "Bedroom, where?"

Hermione pointed, and George carried her down the hall quickly, his lips hardly leaving her body. They crashed through the door and fell onto the bed, Hermione pinned beneath his solid body. He broke the kiss momentarily to strip his shirt off. Hermione's hands immediately went to his chest and shoulders, stroking, exploring the pale, scarred flesh covered in hundreds of freckles. In the time it took for George to pull her dress up and over her head, Hermione was whimpering with need. He leaned down and grasped her breasts, groaning as he felt their weight and fullness. He quickly and carelessly discarded her bra, latching his lips onto one of her nipples. Hermione gasped and held his head to her breast, barely able to support herself on one arm. George licked, kissed, and nipped his way from her collarbones to her hips, leaving red marks and love bites all the way down. He reached the dark purple lace of her knickers and seemed to growl with need, quickly stripping them from her body.

"So. Bloody. Beautiful," he panted, reaching up to crash his lips onto hers one more time before drifting down to settle his head between her thighs. He brushed a knuckle against her swollen folds, already slick with desire, and plunged two fingers into her wetness as his lips and tongue descended on her hard clit.

Hermione arched her back, keening wordlessly as his tongue caressed the most sensitive part of her body. She grasped his hair with one hand, collapsing onto her back as George drover her closer to ecstasy. Unlike so many other men, George seemed to truly enjoy bringing her this pleasure, his muffled groans and panting strong clues of his uninhibited desire for her. As Hermione peaked under George's intense administrations, she cried out his name, panting.

George drew himself up her body, barely pushing his trousers down and out of the way before he was inside her. He thrust hard, deep, and Hermione moaned at the full feeling. She clung to his shoulders as he pumped away, leaving bloody nail marks and welts. He suckled hard on her neck, guiding one of her hands down between their joined bodies. Taking the hint, Hermione began to rub furiously at her clit, eager to reach her peak again, this time with George hard and deep inside her.

Minutes later, both of them covered in sweat, Hermione orgasmed again, bringing George along with her as her walls contracted almost painfully around him. He bit down hard on her neck as he spurted within her, his thrusts faltering. They fell into each other, gasping, and George rolled off her when he had caught his breath.

It wasn't long before they drifted to sleep, George's arms wrapped possessively around her under the blankets.


	15. Chapter 14

The next morning, Hermione's alarm went off at half seven. Groggily, she eased out of George's arms and stood, a little wobbly. Her legs and abdomen was sore from not being used in such a way as she had last night, and between her legs was still sore and sticky from last night. George stirred as Hermione stretched out the kinks in her shoulders and neck, and Hermione didn't realize until he murmured her name. A small smile played on her lips as she turned around, still starkers, and saw George's sleepy hazel eyes peering at her from under his ginger lashes.

"Come back to bed, Mione," George mumbled. "'S'too early."

"I can't, George. I have to run some errands before Ginny's hen night tonight. And you have to go to Harry soon. Actually," Hermione added, picking her watch up off the nightstand, "I have to go get her out of the house as soon as possible or Molly will throw a fit about 'her baby girl being seen before the wedding.'"

"She can survive another hour alone. At least let me say good morning to my lovely fiancee."

Hermione shook her head good-naturedly and crawled back up onto the bed, clad in only her brassiere. She held herself above George's body on her hands and knees, and he lifted his head up to kiss her thoroughly. Before she knew it, George had flipped them and was grinding his morning's erection into her center. Hermione moaned and tried to protest, but George won her over with murmured sweet-nothings and his tongue deliciously darting out to caress the shell of her ear.

Their bodies met hard and sweet, George's arms wrapped around Hermione's upper back, his hands entwined in her wild hair and hers clutching at his lower back and buttocks. They gasped and writhed against each other, George's thrusts shallow and powerful, and after long minutes George spurted deep within her. Hermione's body was still on fire, and she allowed George to take care of her, his tongue swirling her nipples and his nimble fingers working her over the edge.

It was nearly half eight when Hermione finally left, her thighs sticky and her knees weak. She hurried home, and, glancing at the clock, cursed her lateness. With no time to shower, she hurriedly slipped on some skinny jeans and an oversized sweater, and was still strapping on her Marco Tozzi's as she hopped toward the door.

Hermione hurried toward the nearest Tube station and was waiting for only minutes before the train pulled up. She got on for central London, and was stepping into the cold station at Southwark off of Union Street at just past nine. Hermione walked briskly to stay warm, headed for Mme. Pullins' on Nelson's Square. Inside, she met with the dressmaker herself, and thanked her profusely for being open on the New Year. George had offered to come with Hermione on her errands, but this was something Hermione had to do alone: she was getting fitted for her own wedding gown.

Hermione had met with Mme. Pullins several times over the past two weeks, and had agreed to pay extra for a fast project since Mme. Pullins usually spent a couple of months on each dress. Although Hermione was apprehensive, when she finally saw the finished product, she gasped with pleasure. The dress was beautiful, a swirling creation of silk and chiffon, accented with flowers and a lace applique. The chiffon was pearly white at the bust, but darkened to a silvery grey near the flowing hem. Hermione was eager to try on the dress, and Mme. Pullins herself helped her into it in the changing area. The dress fit perfectly to Hermione's form, and the open sleeves flowed from the shoulder to her elbows, billowing slightly as she moved. The chiffon pleated across her bust, and her waist was decorated in lace and flowers. Lace accented the tops of her sleeves, and the gown flowed over her hips to the floor from where it was gathered at the front of her waist.

Mme. Pullins helped her into the shoes she had picked for the occasion, and Hermione finally could see herself in the mirror. Without warning, Hermione started to cry at the sight. Mme. Pullins, an elderly woman and the Muggle mother of a Beauxbaton's student Fleur had mentored, tried to comfort Hermione. As a relative of a witch, Mme. Pullins had heard the news of the Marriage Resolution, and although her own daughter was exempt, she felt for this brunette who had helped save the Wizarding world.

"There there, mon chere," Mme. Pullins whispered, gathering Hermione in her arms. "You look beautiful, and any man will be lucky to have you."

"Thank you, Madame," Hermione sniffed. "I appreciate all you have done for me. This dress – I'm speechless, I never expected something so beautiful in such an ugly situation. Thank you, truly."

Mme. Pullins patted her comfortingly on the back, handed her tissues to dry her tears, and helped Hermione out of the dress. Once Hermione made her payment, Mme. Pullins sent her on her way with a receipt and her shoes, and Hermione made her way uptown on the Tube. Once on Charing Cross Road, Hermione entered the Leaky Cauldron. Procuring a strong cup of tea from Hannah Abbott, the new landlady, she entered Diagon Alley. Gringotts was mercifully open, and Hermione completed her business there before Apparating to Grimmauld Place.

Apparently, Ginny and Harry were still in bed, as neither of them could be bothered to answer the door. Hermione let herself in with a spare key and made her way upstairs to their master bedroom, and knocked loudly on the door. Hermione heard some grunts and calls to go away, and rolled her eyes. The door flew open with one well-aimed spell, and Hermione marched into the bedroom.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, you had better not be getting it on with my best friend right now!"

Harry and Ginny scrambled apart at Hermione's intrusion. They hadn't been entwined, but both were clearly naked. Once seeing that it was Hermione, Ginny stopped trying to wrap the duvet around her body and scoffed, heading for the bathroom.

"Good morning to you, too, Hermione," Ginny yawned sarcastically, disappearing into the shower.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said, giggling. She tactfully averted her eyes from his sheet-wrapped body, which still displayed obvious evidence of his hopeful actions with Ginny.

"Morning, Mione," he mumbled, bright red as he shuffled by her toward the dresser.

"Sorry, Harry. I'm acting on Molly's orders. She doesn't want you two to see each other before the wedding. You're not to see each other at all today."

"I'm already pregnant," Ginny yelled from the bathroom, "what exactly is she worried about?"

"It's not that, Gin, you know your mum is a bit of a traditionalist." Harry rolled his eyes as he dressed. "Hey, Gin, can I show her?"

Ginny answered in the affirmative, and Harry pulled something from his wallet atop the dressing table. He handed a small picture to Hermione, who was momentarily confused, but then looked up and grinned.

"It's the baby! I convinced Ginny to get a Muggle ultrasound so I could see it, and she agreed – after a bit of grumbling. Look..." And Harry was off, showing Hermione legs and arms. "It's due on my birthday," Harry said proudly.

"That's wonderful, Harry. Did the Healers tell you what it was going to be?"

"Ginny has refused, she doesn't want to know if it's male or female until it's born. I agree, the surprise will be pretty neat." Harry's eyes were shining, and his face was glowing with pride. "But Ginny thinks it has my chin."

Hermione knew it was too early to assign features, but she smiled and coddled Harry anyway. "I'm so happy for you, Harry. I really am. You're going to be a great dad." Hugging him, Hermione felt herself begin to tear up for the second time that morning.

"Hey, hands off my fiance," Ginny laughed as she came back into the bedroom, clean and clothed in a silk robe. "Give me ten minutes, Hermione, I'll be down and ready to go."

Even though Molly had put Hermione in charge of keeping the affianced couple separated, Hermione's heart went out to Ginny, and she wouldn't begrudge them the ten minutes alone by taking Harry downstairs. A temporary separation would make their reunion at the alter so much the sweeter, but that doesn't mean Harry and Ginny didn't deserve as much face time as they could get before they parted. Hermione headed down to the kitchen of Grimmauld place, where she was served a cup of coffee by the housekeeper Harry engaged three times a week to keep the mansion a bit cleaner than either he or Ginny (with their sloppy cleaning skills) could manage. The housekeeper bustled around cleaning the kitchen while Hermione perused the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. As she expected, the wedding was in the paper. Underneath a beautiful picture of Harry and Ginny strolling in London was a mercifully short article, but Hermione knew Harry was weary of the press coverage just the same.

_Today marks the first of the new year and little more than twenty-four hours until The Man Who Conquered weds the youngest Weasley, Second Wizarding War heroine Ginevra Weasley. Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley will be wed Saturday, December the second at the Weasley home in Ottery St. Catchpole. The two have been dating since 1996 when the two were studying at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_Harry Potter is best known as the saviour of the Wizarding World, as the once-and-final defeater of the Dark wizard You-Know-Who. He is the son of the now-deceased First Wizarding War heroes James Potter and Lily Potter (nee Evans).He is currently employed at the Ministry of Magic as the Minister's liaison to the Auror Department. It is rumoured that he is next in line to head the Auror department when current Head Alanka Marinet retires._

_Ginevra Weasley is the youngest child and only daughter of the Weasley clan. Her father, Arthur Weasley, is the Head of the Muggle Relations department, having formerly worked as the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Ginevra's mother is homemaker Molly Weasley (nee Prewett). She is sibling to a number of illustrious members of Wizarding society, such as Undersecretary to the Minister, Percy Weasley, and George Weasley, owner of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes._

_George Weasley is also to be married in the near future. Although we at the _Prophet_ are not aware of the exact wedding date, it is known that George Weasley is to be marrying Hermione Granger, war heroine and esteemed researcher at Elixers 4 Everyone. Ms. Granger is considered to be one of the brightest minds of the age, and it is rumoured that she will be stepping down from her position at E4E in order to pursue a project with Dinmore, Ltd. _(There was a picture inserted here of Hermione and George dancing at the Ministry Ball last week)_ The two have been seen to be enjoying each other's company at Ministry functions as well as in Diagon Alley, where Weasley Wizarding Wheezes is headquartered. As many of our readers are aware, Hermione Granger was once romantically linked with George Weasley's brother, Ronald, with whom she separated nearly two years ago._

_Ronald Weasley, war hero, is also set to marry within the next few months, before the end-date of the Marriage Resolution, but details have not been released about his fiancee or their impending wedding. – _

Hermione stopped reading and tossed the paper aside. She had no desire to read about Ron's accolades, and even less interest in rehashing their past relationship. She was saved by Ginny's entrance into the kitchen. Finally ready to face the day, Hermione and Ginny said goodbye to Harry and exited Grimmauld Place.

"So, what's on the books today, Mione?"

"I figured we'd go to the spa today. We need to get your nails done and all that anyway, and what better way to do it than with a massage by a couple of sexy wizards?" Hermione teased. Ginny grinned widely and winked.

"I'm so in."

–

By two, the girls emerged from Lazue's with fresh manicures and pedicures, their muscles relaxed to the point of melting, and Hermione had a new haircut. Gone were her long curls, instead, her hair was s

short and flat against her skull, her wispy curls framing her face in a sweet pixie cut. The seasoned stylist had thinned Hermione's rather bulky hair, and semi-permanently straightened it out to sultry waves with Sleakeazy's. Ginny had loved the idea of a new style, and her hair was neatly trimmed, too, though still very long.

The two women strolled Diagon Alley for a while, window shopping, but eventually decided to call it a day. After lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione and Ginny returned to Hermione's home to relax and get ready for their night on the town.


	16. Chapter 15

The girls were grouped in Hermione's living room, ready for the hen night. Hannah Longbottom (nee Abbott), Luna Lovegood, Susan Bones, and Vicky Frobisher. Even Ginny's former housemate Sage Kelleen showed up, eager to celebrate the last day of singlehood for her old friend. After all, most of the attendees would be going through the same process shortly, if they hadn't already.

Hermione explained the plan, and before long, the girls were Apparating and taking the Floo to McCoul's, Ginny's favorite pub in Oxford. They managed to get a table right away, and soon the table was filled with delicious appetizers – cheesy chips, Scotch Eggs, and stuffed mushrooms. Almost all the women had cocktails, mainly Sarasotas or French Kisses, though Hermione was staying sober out of solidarity with Ginny. The fiery redhead had tried to get Hermione to drink ("So I can live vicariously through you!") but they eventually came to an understanding, and Ginny dove into the smoked salmon instead.

Halfway through the dinner the conversation turned to the marriage law, and there were lamentations all around regarding the Ministry's choice in spouse. Hannah and Ginny were the most pleased. After learning that the Marriage Resolution had called for her and Neville Longbottom to wed, the new proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron had jumped at the chance. They had grown quite close during the last years of the war, and had dated casually up until the announcement. Apparently their relationship was going quite well, as scarcely three days after the Marriage Resolution owls went out, Hannah and Neville had gone down to the Ministry to make it official, becoming one of the first dozen couples to wed. There had been no big ceremony, only a small party, as both Neville's family and Hannah's were gone (Neville's parents had finally passed away in St. Mungo's just last year. They had no recollection of him at all when they died, something which Hermione knew pained Neville deeply.) Hermione was happy for them – Neville was one of her dearest friends aside from Harry and Ginny – and the two of them seemed to work rather well together. They didn't seem to spend as much time together as they would like, with Neville teaching Herbology at Hogwarts and Hannah running the Leaky Cauldron, but they appeared happy living in the flat above the pub.

Luna, on the other hand, was in the opposite boat. She had been paired with a fellow Ravenclaw, Michael Corner, and at first their relationship seemed smooth, if awkward. However, not even a month after the Resolution came out, Michael had petitioned for another mate on grounds of mental illness – he apparently felt that Luna was not fit to be married. Granted, Hermione had not liked Luna at first, had thought her rather flighty, but she had learned along the way that Luna was a precocious woman with strong opinions and an especially vivid imagination. Despite her inherent resiliency and dislike of Corner, Luna had been deeply wounded by the dismissal and the subsequent ruling by the Ministry Council that she was not to be assigned another spouse until someone petitioned for her. She seemed as bright and bubbly as ever, but Hermione had noticed her becoming quiet and resigned over the last few months. She attributed it to the fact that she was now running the Quibbler on her own, and the travel she did was exhausting, but the girls at the table knew better. Her betrayal by Corner had been splashed all over Witch Weekly and some of the seedier rags available at the newsstands.

Susan Bones was somewhat of a mystery to Hermione, as she had very little contact with the Hufflepuff over their schoolyears, and even less after leaving, but Hermione thought her to be a pleasant person, quick to smile and the antithesis to Ginny's famous Weasley temper. Susan was engaged to be married to Oliver Wood. Susan was the only other person Hermione knew of who had been assigned to marry someone with an age gap of more than one year – Hermione and Fred had three year's of an age difference between them. Hermione knew Susan had been raised by her elderly grandfather, so she was unsurprised when Susan had jumped at being included in the hen night – Hermione didn't imagine that she had much girl-time growing up, and she and Ginny had gotten close during the war.

Hermione had never actually met Sage before tonight. She had lived in Ginny's dormitory while they were at Hogwarts, and even though the girl was only a year younger than Hermione, the latter couldn't recall ever seeing her before. She hadn't gotten in trouble while Hermione was a prefect, in any case, and she hadn't joined Dumbledore's Army alongside Ginny. She would be marrying Tanner Van Burm, a former Gryffindor of her year and heir to a massive fortune. They didn't get along so well, but had no grounds to petition for a change in partners, and each preferred the other to whoever they could possibly be paired up with – other people who weren't satisfied nor satisfactory. She had the opinion that at least she would be well taken care of while the marriage lasted.

By the time conversation turned to Vicky, Hermione had lost track of how many drinks had been imbibed by the poor girl, and she did not seem in a good state. Her eyes were sad and a little bleary as she described to her former housemates being with a man who clearly wanted someone else was like. Only Luna was able to sympathize, and they commiserated together for quite a while. Hermione's heart broke for these girls, but knew it was inappropriate to reach out to Vicky, as the woman her fiance wanted was Hermione herself. Hermione was not the only one who noticed Vicky had a bit much to drink, and amid the next gale of laughter, Hermione saw Sage drain her glass with a clever charm. Vicky didn't seem to notice, and instead asked Hermione how she and George were doing.

"So, Hermione, how is your Weasley?"

"George and I are doing just fine. We haven't really had any problems yet, even though the Prophet won't leave us alone. It seems like every time I pick up the damned paper there's another article or picture. I've half a mind to stop reading it altogether."

"Yeah," chimed in Hannah, "we've been lucky. Neville and I had our picture in the Prophet right after we got married, kind of like a morale booster for the Wizarding world. The Ministry was using us to try and convince other people that they knew what they were doing matching everyone up. Don't believe them, though. We didn't consent to being poster children, and I've met more unhappy people than not."

"For the most part, most of the people I know are at least acquainted with their spouses, with a few exceptions. Half of them had been dating already. Granted, not every relationship will naturally end in marriage, but if you already got along and had a decent snogging partner, then that's a plus." Everyone cracked up, snorting and giggling at Hermione's blasé comment.

The next round accompanied dessert – trifles, tipsy puddings, and apple hats – and then the ladies settled their tabs and headed off to a Muggle night spot. Vicky and Sage had never spent much time at all in a Muggle community, but it was easy to attribute their staring and offhand comments to the alcohol, at least in the eyes of the Muggles aboard the bus.

The Cock and Camel was a local pub with a colourful mess of a club downstairs. Brightly coloured lights strobed the room and a DJ pumped out popular Muggle music, as well as the pop music of Hermione's childhood. The dancefloor was a decent size and already crowded, and Ginny and Hermione wasted no time in taking their spots on the floor while their comrades made for the bar. Before long, Ginny had drawn the appreciative eyes of many men with her short blue dress and sky-high heels. Her red hair was in sexy disarray, and the absence of a drink in her hand seemed a signal to most of the male patrons of the bar that she was available to be wooed with any number of cocktails. Ginny turned them all down without a word, not wanting to let on to the Muggles that she was pregnant (though one would think her huge engagement ring would have been a hint at her inavailability).

After a couple of hours dancing and resting at one of the high-backed leather booths, Ginny was ready to call it a night. It was not quite eleven, but the pregnant bride-to-be tired easily and needed her rest before the ceremony the next evening. With hugs and kisses, the girls parted, and Hermione and Ginny made their way back to the nearest known Wizarding establishment to use their Floo (it wasn't advised for Ginny to Apparate in her current state). By the time they tumbled in bed at Hermione's flat, it was nearly midnight, and they quickly fell asleep.


End file.
